When the Blood Burns
by TriggerHappyWorld
Summary: A missing ADA, a high school sex scandal, and a Major Case detective on the verge of a major breakdown.  B/A, and x-over with SVU. Part 4 in series.
1. Wednesday, February 9th, 2005

A/N 1: I'm not even going to say that this is my final story in this series. Instead, I'll just say that this is the continuance. This picks up where 'Forgive Us Our Trespasses' left off and is a crossover with L&O:SVU.

Pairings: B/A…Turbulent times, people, so fasten your seatbelts.

Rating: T (M for selected chapters)

Warnings: The usual: bad language, violence, adult situations, murder, sensitive subject matter including child sexual abuse (hence SVU involvement), alcohol consumption, drug references (prescription and illegal), references to suicide, and adults consenting to doing what I tell them to do. Any other specific warnings I will try and remember to post for those chapters.

Disclaimer(s): I own the characters I've created. Dick Wolf owns what's his.

Summary: "_When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul."_** - **William Shakespeare.

* * *

><p>(The end of this chapter is rated <strong>M<strong>.)

_Major Case Squad_

_One Police Plaza, Manhattan_

He felt the spark of anger ignite early that morning as he arrived at One Police Plaza. With him he carried the same box he had left Staten Island with, which he never unpacked. It had been sitting in his study, shoved under his desk. In it were supplies, files filled with notes on all the cases he'd worked while on the island, a few of his books, and his binder.

He could feel the glares on his back as Kathy handed him his ID badge at the front desk. Then when he went to the elevators, he realized that no one was allowing him on. One detective even blocked him as he hit the button to shut the doors, telling him that the elevator was full. There had only been five other people on it.

The tight clench in his chest wasn't an unfamiliar feeling; he'd felt the pain of isolation before but never to this extent. Everyone seemed to be making a point to exclude him. Abandoning the elevators, he pulled open the stairwell door and took the stairs. He got halfway up, stopped and leaned against the wall as he felt the gnawing pain erupt in his gut. His hands quivered as he reached for the ibuprofen in his pocket; he took one, swallowing it dry, before continuing to the eleventh floor.

He had just turned the corner, heading toward the Major Case Squad room when a detective, Andrews, spotted him as he went to walk by. Andrews reached out as he passed and hit his box, sending it tumbling to the floor.

Bobby stared down at the scattered papers, books, and his binder and felt his fists clench. Turning around, he stormed after the detective. "Andrews!"

Andrews stopped and turned to face him with a smug smile on his face. "What'd you want, Goren?"

He shoved Andrews hard in the chest as he stepped up to him. "What the hell's your problem?"

Several other detectives and civilian employees stopped walking as they watched to see what would happen.

Andrews, with barely controlled anger, stepped back up to him, saying, "You're my problem. You're this entire department's problem. Why don't you leave us good cops alone by doing us all a favor and go crawl back into your little _rat_ hole on Staten Island."

Bobby glared at the detective as he turned and continued down the hallway. Swallowing hard, he glanced around the hall at the people standing around and then into the squad room. When it was obvious that no one was going to help or have his back, he knelt down to pick up his overturned box.

And so went his day.

He had been welcomed back by Captain Deakins once he entered the squad room, however, no one else even acknowledged his presence. Since he was no longer Alex's partner, he no longer had the desk across from her. It hurt to see it empty and knowing that he would never have that desk again. Then when Deakins showed him to the desk, the one that wobbled and was blocked from the rest of the squad room by a pillar, he had to take a deep breath and count to five before he could even sit down.

Deakins gave him copies of the reports and files from the case Alex and Mike were working on and he got right down to business. After a few minutes of dealing with the tilted desk, he took out his knife and cut a square piece out of the box and put it under the shortened leg, fixing the tilt. That turned out to be the most productive thing he did all day.

Alex and Mike were gone nearly the entire day; he had called during lunch and found that they had leads that they were running down. When he returned to his desk after two in the afternoon, he couldn't concentrate from the constant pain that wouldn't go away. He'd taken another ibuprofen with his pastrami on rye, but the medication wasn't strong enough. At one point he ended up in the interview room, trying to map out his thoughts on the white board only to find himself staring at it with nothing to show for a day's worth of profiling.

He got lucky because a little after four, Mike walked in pushing along side him a man in handcuffs. Bobby watched as he took him into the holding cell, locking him in before coming out just in time to meet Alex at the door. Mike handed her the cuffs and then they proceeded his way, to the captain's office.

As they passed, Mike gave him a pat on the shoulder as Alex grinned, but not before she teased him about the desk. Bobby turned in his chair watched as they briefed Deakins on the case. A few minutes later they walked out, heading to their desks as Deakins stepped up to him.

"Well, they got the guy. That profile might help with the prosecution, but he confessed, gave everything up. You can either stay and finish it or get going; it'll be five soon enough anyway."

Bobby stared down at the files in front of him and gave a nod before gathering everything up. Once all the folders were in order, he opened his bottom drawer, looked down, and froze. He slammed the drawer shut, buried his head in his quivering hands, and cursed.

"Everything okay?"

He nearly jumped at the sound of her voice. Bobby dropped his hands as he leaned back in the chair. He was fighting the urge to snap, or to find out who was responsible and beat their head in. Alex leaned against his desk as he quickly glanced around the bullpen. Some detectives glanced their way but most continued to ignore them; Mike was on the phone at the desk that had once belonged to Detective Bishop.

"Bobby?"

"Uh, yeah…everything's fine, Eames."

"I guess I'm going to have to get used to that again. You calling me 'Eames' at work," Alex said with a smile. "So, Logan wants to go out and celebrate your return and the solving of our first case together. What'd you say? One celebratory toast for the three of us then we'll head home."

He really didn't want to; his gut was on fire, his head was pounding, and he had the worst day ever. And to top it all off, there was a dead rat in the bottom drawer of his desk.

"I know we promised to talk tonight, so if you want to go straight home instead, I'll let Logan know."

He forgot about their plans to talk. They were going to make dinner, drink some wine, do some serious talking about what was going on with them, and him. After today, however, he wasn't in the mood. Ah, screw it, he needed a drink. "No, uh, it's okay. I've got something I've got to do first, uh…before we leave, so, uh…let me know when you're ready."

Alex smiled down at him as she got up and went back to her desk.

Bobby watched her walk away and felt his stomach drop. Shifting his eyes away, he stared at the pillar in front of him and closed his eyes. His thoughts about quitting MCS rushed back so hard it felt that he'd been punched in chest.

Everything had changed. He had thought that in order in get everything back to normal, back to the way it was, that he had to get back to Major Case. The once safe, even comforting, squad room had become something foreign and unsafe. It was filled with the same people, the same faces he'd always seen day-in and day-out for four years, but now the comfort of the familiarity was gone. These people, his colleagues, no longer wanted him there. He was no longer accepted as one of their own. They no longer trusted him.

Taking a breath, he pulled out a latex glove, flipped the lid off the now empty box under his desk, and opened the drawer. Putting the open end of the box up to the edge of the drawer, he quickly tossed the dead rodent in it then placed the lid back on top as he kicked the drawer shut. He threw the glove in the trash and after he put the files away, grabbed his binder, coat, and the box before leaving the squad room through the back hallway to avoid having to walk by Alex and Mike.

Once out back behind One Police Plaza, he tossed the box into the dumpster but stayed outside as he pulled his pack of cigarettes out from his pocket and lit one. Sitting on the cold concrete steps that led up to the door, he thought about what he was going to do. He could tough it out and stick with MCS or he could put in a transfer. He really didn't want to quit the NYPD altogether. He loved his job.

He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Alex sent him a text telling him to get back up to Major Case, something's come up. They had a new case already.

Bobby finished his second cigarette as wrote her back, telling her he was on his way. He took an empty elevator to the eleventh floor and hurried down the hall. Alex's desk was empty, and so was Mike's, but he didn't have to search far for them once he looked toward Deakin's office.

He tapped on the door before walking in. Once inside, he shut the door and walked over to the table against the wall seeing how both chairs were taken. He sat on the edge of the table and waited for the briefing.

Deakins was on the phone, looking grief stricken. "I understand how delicate this is, Chief. That's why I'm putting my best detectives on it…" he glanced over at him and said into the phone, "Yes…I'll tell him. Yeah…" He checked his watch and cursed under his breath. "What channel?" he asked as he opened a drawer in his desk, taking out the remote. "I will, Ch-" he pulled the phone away and glanced at it before hanging up.

Bobby turned his attention to the television that was in the corner of the office as it was turned on.

A news anchor was reporting live outside of the courthouse across the street. "…have yet to receive confirmation from the NYPD, but early reports indicate that ADA Alec Gardner, a twelve year veteran of the New York district court, is missing."

"How'd they get this already when we're just now finding out?" Logan asked as Deakins lowered the volume on the TV.

Bobby sat still as he continued to watch the screen as he said, "ADA Gardner, his fiancée is Natalie Vandenberg…Her brother is Kurt Vandenberg." When they all looked at him, he explained, "He owns WQNY and half of the corporate media in New York."

"Oh, those Vandenberg's," Logan said with a roll of his eyes.

"Do you want us to treat this as a disappearance?" Alex asked as she turned to Deakins. "He could just be off in the Hamptons with a mistress."

Deakins smirked a little but explained, "ADA Gardner was due to present to the Grand Jury this afternoon, it was the final slot on the docket, he never showed."

"For what case?" Bobby asked as his fingers twitched to be writing something down, but as it were, his binder was on his desk.

"He was looking to indict Guy Patterson."

They all went silent as they turned to one another. Bobby saw a clouded dark look fill Logan's eyes that had him curious, and concerned, before he glanced to Alex. She was obviously upset; no one liked to see anyone skate on child abuse cases, but especially when it involved sexual abuse.

Logan was the first to speak, and when he did, his voice was thick with distain, "The Catholic high school coach?"

That didn't need to be confirmed, they all knew who Guy Patterson was. He'd been the major news story for the past three months after five students came forward claiming that they had been abused by the coach.

Deakins gave a brief nod as he told them, "I want this report confirmed and a search conducted as quickly as possible. If Gardner is alive, find him."

"And if he isn't?"

Deakins looked at Logan and said, "Then he isn't and we have a body to find. Goren," he sighed as he turned to him. "I'm clearing you for limited field work on this, but you still can't have your weapon. So wherever you go make sure you have one of the detectives present or a uniform. Now, get to work."

"You're clearing us for overtime on this, seeing how quitting time's in less than two hours?" Logan asked as he opened the door.

Deakins glanced to the clock on the wall and sighed, "As of now, do what you can to confirm a missing persons then call it a day."

Bobby pushed off the table and went to follow them out before something occurred to him, "Sir, uh…The Patterson case was SVU's, will they be brought in on this investigation?"

"As of now, only as sources of contact."

Bobby nodded, saying ,"Okay, thanks," before walking the very short distance to his desk. He tucked his binder under his arm and then followed the others out of the squad room.

"I'm driving," Alex announced once they were on the elevator heading down to the lower level. "And I don't want another argument about it…Logan."

Bobby just smirked as he looked at Mike who sighed heavily in defeat. Leaning over to him, he said softly, "Get used to it."

"Used to what?"

"Eames getting her way."

Alex glared back at him and he just chuckled. Then she said, "I guess that only implies to our _working_ relationship."

His smile dropped as he glared right back at her.

Mike looked between the two of them and cleared his throat. "Is it filled with unresolved tension in here, or is it just you two."

Alex shook her head and turned back to staring at the doors until they opened.

"Nice, Logan," she snapped once the doors opened. "Very subtle."

"That's me…subtle," he snarked right back as he followed her out.

Bobby stared after the two of them, almost forgetting to get off until the doors started to shut on him. Reaching out, he stopped them in time as he stepped into the parking garage and headed to the office where Alex checked out a department issue SUV.

Coming out of the office with the keys, she told him, "I was thinking it'll be best if we split up seeing how we have less than two hours to establish exactly what this case is."

Bobby nodded as he glanced between her and Mike, knowing that he was going to end up the odd man out. "Yeah, okay…So, I'll take his office while you two check out his apartment."

"If that's okay?" Alex asked, making it sound like she was actually concerned that he would be objective to his own idea.

Bobby just nodded as he stepped away. "I'll walk over."

"It's not far, we'll give you a lift."

"Are we still getting that drink later?" Bobby asked, looking right at Logan.

Mike raised his eyes with the sudden attention. "Uh…sure," he answered slowly as he looked to Alex.

Bobby caught her look and the nod she gave. "Let me know where and I'll meet you. We'll, uh…discuss our findings then," he said as he turned away and headed for the elevator so he could exit through the lobby.

* * *

><p><em><span>En-route to ADA Alec Gardner's Apartment<span>_

_Upper West Side, Manhattan_

"So, what's going on between you two?"

"Logan-"

"C'mon, Eames, you can't fool me. I've seen that look plenty of times." When she still didn't answer, he asked, "You miss working with him?"

She sighed heavily and glanced over at him. "Yes, but I don't just miss working with him, I miss _him_. Ever since the shooting he's been drifting further away from me and I have no idea how to bring him back."

"I suspected as much." Logan was quiet for a moment and she thought that it was the end of his inquiry, and then he said, "From the short time I've worked with him, I've noticed he doesn't play well with others. I can only imagine what you're going through being in a relationship with a guy like that."

Alex changed lanes and took a quick right onto a one way. "Yeah, well, I don't know why anyone would expect him to be the opposite way in his personal life, because he's not. What he is on the job is the same way he is at home."

"Are you bitter?"

Glancing at him, she said, "I'm not bitter."

"You sound bitter."

"Well, I'm not," she fired right back, again. Then said, "I'm frustrated and confused and the last person I want to be talking to about it is you."

He smirked a little as he went back to looking out the window. "You're bitter."

"Logan-"

"I saw it the other day at the courthouse."

Alex sighed as she stopped at a light. While she stared ahead, watching the light, she reluctantly said, "Okay, I'm bitter and maybe even a little jealous."

Logan was confused as he pointed to himself, saying, "Of me?"

"He laughs with you. Talks to you."

"Because I'm not asking him about his feelings or what he's thinking. You want to get him to talk to you-"

"Yes, Mike, I do," she said a little too sternly as she stepped on the gas. "Why don't you tell me how I should be talking to my boyfriend?"

He just stared at her for a moment and she could tell he was either trying not to take offense, or to keep himself from smiling. "I'll shut-up if you want me too."

Breathing out, she shook her head. "Sorry."

"I'm not trying to annoy you."

"Too late for that."

They were both quiet as she maneuvered through a construction zone. It was taking forever it seemed like to get uptown. A moving van suddenly appeared out from behind a cement brick wall and she had to slam on the brake. "Shit!" she exclaimed as the van kept rolling backwards.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she had a flash of the night she'd been the crash. The broken glass, the deafening sound of metal hitting metal, and feeling her arm break before she passed out. When she saw images of blood and Copeland laying motionless beside her, she snapped out of it.

"…Eames, are you-"

She rolled down the window and stuck her head out, yelling at the driver of the moving van. "Move the van!" The driver just looked at her but didn't attempt to move. Pulling out her shield, she held it out and yelled, "I said move it!"

As soon as the driver saw the badge, he quickly changed directions and pulled back into the alley it had been exiting.

"Wow."

Alex looked over at Logan and saw the smirk on his face. "What?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Nothing," he said but he was still smiling. Then chuckling, he said, "You're a total badass."

Not saying anything to that, she continued toward their destination thinking that the subject was dropped. Alex reached for the radio when she heard Logan ask another question.

"How long have you two been together?"

Alex rolled her eyes in annoyance before realizing something and had to ask, "Bobby never told you?"

Logan shrugged, saying, "It's not like we're good friends, Eames. We're partners, nothing more. Besides, if he had told me anything while we were drinking, chances are I don't remember."

Stopping at another red light, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she wrestled with the thought of telling Mike Logan more than she already had. Finally, she said, "Two years in March."

"That's a long time. I take it the excitement period's been over for a while then, huh?"

Alex huffed out a laugh and shook her head, "Ours lasted the first nine, ten months we were together before I realized just how impossible he was."

"I'm shocked it lasted that long."

"I think it only did because not long after we got together I became a surrogate for my sister. Even though we were together, the first nine months was like, I don't know, friends with benefits."

"Really?" he asked, suddenly interested.

"I know, it sounds bad-"

"Who said anything about it being bad," he teased, causing her to laugh a little.

"Okay, it wasn't bad. It was actually pretty good, but that was the way it had to be at first. I was pregnant and so busy after work between doctor appointments and spending as much time with my sister and her husband as I possibly could without actually moving in with them. I hardly spent any time with Bobby when we weren't working. And when I did have time for him, he only stayed with me for a few hours. Long enough to cook me dinner or take me out and then, well…you know. The further along I got, the more distant we became. Then when I went on maturity leave, that was when he did a complete one-eighty on me. He started calling me all the time, staying the night at my place instead of going home right after. Hell, he even started cooking me breakfast."

"And then after you got through all that-"

"Got through all that?"

"Hey, I'm a guy, alright. What else am I supposed to say? Anyway, once you were back to work and…um…"

"Fully committed to our relationship?"

"That's when…what? You realized what he was really like?"

"I guess you can put it that way," she said as she slowed for a left turn onto a one-way. "At first, he was excited just to have me back as his partner and that rubbed off on our after-work activities. Then once the initial excitement wore off, the tougher our relationship got and the more we argued. It wasn't long after that before I was kidnapped and all hell broke loose."

"And then you two broke up. Huh, if you hadn't had done that baby thing, you think you and Goren would've lasted that long?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But we're back together now and we're trying to work it out. That's all that matters." She eased up in front of the apartment building that was already surrounded by police cursers and news vans. Alex hadn't realized until that moment that she had needed that; she had needed to vent and talk about it. Suddenly feeling grateful for the ear Logan had given her, turned to him. Shaking her head, Alex couldn't believe what she was about to say; smiling, she told him, "Thanks, Logan."

Logan just smiled right back as he opened the door to get out. "Anytime tempy."

Alex went to open the door when she stopped and looked back at him. "Tempy?"

"What would you prefer?"

"I don't know, how about 'partner'?"

"Okay, but once Goren's back on full duty, we're going to have to break it off. Unless you want to sneak around behind his back and work cases with me."

Alex laughed as she got out and shut the door.

Heading toward the high-class apartment building, she heard Logan say, "I like working with you. I've missed working with someone with the same sense of humor as me."

"Goren has a sense of humor."

"Ha, only when he's not over thinking the punch line," he said as he reached out to get the door for her.

* * *

><p><em><span>Office of ADA Alec Gardner<span>_

_One Hogan Plaza,, Manhattan_

Bobby found the office on the fifth floor and didn't bother knocking as he walked into the reception area of the office. Behind the desk sat Ileana Peltier, Gardner's secretary. The days where secretaries were sixty year old, grey-haired women were over. Ileana Peltier had long blond hair, full lips, bright blue eyes and dressed casually yet seductively in a short skirt that didn't make it to her knees and a neckline that plunged down, and down.

Shaking his head, he quickly glanced around the inner office and took in the set of chairs, the couch against the wall by the door, a table on the far wall with a pitcher of water and glasses, and a solitary plant in the corner by her desk. "Uh, Misses-"

"Miss, I'm not married," she said with an aura of irritation as she sat down in her chair. "And you are?"

Bobby didn't know why she was suddenly on edge, but he had to get her to drop her guard if he was going to get anything out of her. "Oh, uh…I'm Detective Robert Goren, Major Case. I'm investigating Mr. Gardner's disappearance."

She eyed his badge and then said frantically, "They've only got one detective looking for Alec? He's an Assistant District Attorney for-"

"I know who he is, ma'am," he said as he eased forward, hand out in a defensive mood as he tried to calm her sudden outburst. "Could you-"

She huffed out a breath of air as she settled herself by crossing her legs, rather slowly he noticed, and leaned back in the chair. The way she was sitting, straight with her shoulders back, was causing her chest to push out. "How can I help you, detective?"

He had no idea if she was aware of what she was doing, but he never met a woman who didn't. God, how he wished Alex was there; that way he could walk around while asking questions instead of having to sit and be all uncomfortable. He hoped she wouldn't think he was checking her out as he looked her over. Or that he was flirting while he leaned in close to ask questions. Alex seemed to help even the playing field in these situations. "Miss Peltier-"

"You can sit," she said as she gestured to the chair in front of her.

"I prefer to stand, but, uh…thanks." Bobby took in her well manicured hands, polished fingernails-red-and the diamond earrings and necklace. They looked to be expensive and real. A grand easily went into her jewelry, and about half that for her outfit. He wondered if they were gifts from the ADA as he started again, "Miss Peltier-"

"Please, call me Ileana."

Bobby wondered if he was ever going to get a damn question in as he gave her a fake smile and said, yet again but this time using her first name, "Ileana." Then, instead of asking what he wanted, decided to put her off guard since she'd been doing it to him. "Are you French?"

Like he expected, she paused in whatever she was about to say and gapped slightly. Recovering, she said sweetly, almost seductively, "Why, yes, I am."

"Yeah, it's that I noticed with the name…It's lovely."

She smiled at the flattery and he saw her guard slipping. "Thank you, that's nice of you to say." They looked at one another for a moment before she stood up, and went to the table and poured a glass of water. "Would you like some water, detective?"

"It's Robert, and thank you." If she was going to go with the informal, then so would he. Besides, she had called ADA Gardner by his first name; maybe she was more comfortable being on a first name basis with people…Or men particularly.

It seemed to work because as she handed him the glass, he saw her shoulders slump. "Robert, I'm apologize," she apologized as she stood a little too close.

If Alex were there, she would have cleared her throat or asked a question by now to further put the woman off guard. Without her there, he was left to his own devices.

"We're all on edge with Alec's disappearance," she was saying as he took a sip. She held her water glass her right hand and moving it in close to her chest, to the open area of her blouse. A drop of condensation dripped from the glass onto her skin as she continued, "And what this means for the Patterson case. Alec was the only one really pushing for the indictment." She sighed heavily as she rubbed at her temple. "Please, sit and I'll answer whatever I can."

Bobby took another sip of the water as he did what she suggested now that she wasn't trying to get him either out of the office, but she could be trying to get him into her pants. He still didn't know if it's tactic or if he was putting too much stock in her movements. She could have actually just been crossing her legs normally but with the really short shirk, had to adjust herself slowly. It wasn't like he knew what it was like to wear something like that. Alex would know if it was normal or not…And the thing with the water; that was unpredictable and her movements could have been subconscious, an innate reaction.

Ileana sat back down and he tried not to notice how she put her legs this time but couldn't help it. He saw that she did it the same way, crossed them in a slow smooth movement, and nearly smirked at himself for actually looking. He hoped she didn't notice, or if she did that she didn't get the wrong idea.

Taking another sip of the water, he put it on the desk and flipped his binder. As he glanced up at her while taking out his mechanical pencil, he saw her slight blush and the look in her eye. Fuck, she saw and now she thought he was interested. He almost, instinctively, looked to his right where the other chair sat empty but caught himself. Alex wasn't there and she never would be ever again.

Clearing his throat, he turned to a blank page, dated it at the top, and then asked, "Let's just start from the beginning."

"The beginning?" she asked confused.

Bobby saw her look and rephrased, realizing that the 'beginning' for her was probably when Gardner hired her. "Uh, tell me about what happened yesterday, what his regular routine is for his work days…and we'll go from there?"

"Oh, okay," she breathed out a little as she adjusted her blouse, causing him to swallow hard.

Crossing his left leg over his right, he adjusted his binder on top of his leg and shifted in the chair. It was going to be a long interview.

* * *

><p><em><span>Charley's Pub<span>_

_Lower East Side, Manhattan_

They arranged to meet up in a pub close to Mike's apartment two hours later. He was the first to arrive and he chose an empty booth that was near the back but away from the wall because he didn't want to feel entrapped with only one way out, which would've been over Alex's body. This way, with each side open, he could get in and out without having to move her. Bobby ordered his second drink when Alex and Mike finally arrived forty-five minutes later.

Alex asked him how it gone at the office and he only shrugged in return as he took a sip of the scotch. He didn't learn much of anything at the office except that ADA Gardner never arrived to work that morning. Ileana had tried calling him all day to no avail. She figured he was busy getting ready for the Grand Jury or had bad reception. It wasn't until he never showed for the hearing that someone thought it was necessary to call the police and report him missing.

"So, to my first solve as a Major Case detective and to Bobby's first day back where he belongs," Mike said as he raised his glass.

Bobby barely smiled as he raised his part way to theirs before taking a bigger gulp.

"Have a bad day?" Alex asked from beside him.

Shaking his head, he told her, "Just a long one." He didn't know how to tell her what he'd been thinking. He didn't want to tell her about his bad day at work; quite frankly, he didn't think it was anyone's business but his own.

Alex was doing okay within the department, and now that she was working with Mike, hopefully the other detectives would get off her back. Maybe…He didn't know if they would or not, but he was hoping Logan could help her regain her status within the squad. Mike was a good guy, a good partner, and despite his rep for having a temper, he was well-liked.

Even though Mike had helped with the Internal Affairs operation, his participation had been limited. Most cops were quick to forgive Mike because he hadn't been the one to turn traitor on the Staten Island cops. Mike mostly acted as his backup; he hadn't been the one to gather evidence or be the one to testify at the Grand Jury. All Mike did was remain his loyal partner, and no one could fault him on that.

Besides, no one wanted to turn their back on Mike because he had always been one of the boys. He'd been a cop longer; he'd been through his share of IA investigations and had always remained loyal to his brothers in blue.

He felt Alex move away from him and looked up. She grabbed her purse as she headed toward the restrooms.

"Women can never go to the john without their purse."

"She probably thinks you'll snoop through it while she's gone."

"Like I care what she carries around in that thing. Besides, I've searched plenty of women's purses to know that most are filled with makeup, gum, and a shit load of change on the bottom. And do you know why they carry all that change in it? To make it hurt when they smack you with it."

Bobby chuckled as he took a sip of the scotch and gave a nod. "In one woman's purse I searched, I found a gun, multiple bags of cocaine, a vibrator, and a book called _A Woman's Guide to Dating Men_."

Mike gave him an incredulous, yet intrigued look. "Really?"

"It was while I was working narcotics. Freaked me out a little; I had to look in my girlfriend's purse at the time just to make sure not all women did that. I really didn't mind the vibrator or the gun, but the self-help book made me nervous."

Mike started laughing as he asked, "Ever find an extra change of erotic underwear."

He had to think about that but eventually shook his head. "Erotic, no."

"I have. Get this, a bra that was missing a few certain select spots on each, _and, _crotch-less panties."

Bobby thought about that for a moment before shaking his head. "Stripper or call-girl?"

"Elementary school teacher."

"Huh," he said as he leaned back in the booth and took a sip of the scotch.

Mike took a big gulp of the beer before telling him, "She taught second grade; all the kids loved her. Had a kid of her own…single mother. Real nice lady."

"Get her number while you were at it?"

Mike blushed but didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "No one messed with you today at work, did they?"

Bobby shook his head as he downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. As the waitress passed by their table, he gestured for another.

"What's that for you, round two? Why don't you slow down?"

"Why don't you mind your own business," he snapped back as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and tapped one out.

"There's no smoking in here."

Bobby glared at Mike but he put the cigarette back in the pack but placed it in front of him on the table. "Happy?"

"No. Who stuck their stick up your ass?"

"If you don't stop asking, I'm going to stick something up yours…and it won't be a stick."

That got a laugh from Mike, and a smirk from him. "Now that I've got the old Bobby back again for a brief moment, mind answering me something without the attitude?"

He gave a shrug as he accepted the new glass of scotch from the waitress.

"You doing anything for Valentine's Day?"

Bobby stared at Mike for a long moment before telling him, "I meant my foot when I said I'll stick something else up your ass, Mike."

Mike nearly choked on his beer. Coughing down the beer in his throat, he said, "Asshole…you did that purpose." He wiped his mouth and chin on the sleeve of his shirt as he continued to cough.

He chuckled as he took a sip of the scotch before saying, "You were the one asking me out."

"I wasn't-" Mike stopped himself as he kept chuckling. "All I want to know is if I should expect Eames to be unusually pissed off that day or not."

At the mention of Alex's name, he glanced back toward the hallway that lead to the restrooms. "I haven't planned anything yet."

"You don't know what you're getting her?"

Shrugging, he told him, "A waffle maker."

It was Mike's turn to stare at him like he'd lost his mind. "Please tell me you're kidding. Even I know that's a horrible gift."

Bobby leaned on the table as he said, "You know what I got her last year on Valentine's Day?" When Mike shook his head, he told him, "A cappuccino machine."

"She's right, you're an idiot."

He held up his hand as he finished telling him, "The necklace I got for her, that was shipped from Ireland, arrived a day late. So, this year, I'm not giving her the special, romantic gift or doing, uh…whatever it is I plan on doing, until the next day."

Mike had a weird smirk on his face as he teased him, "Aww, how sweet, you're making it into a tradition."

Bobby would have denied it but he knew Mike was right. Plus, if he decided to take her out to dinner, restaurants wouldn't be reserved to the max on the 15th. "Anyway, it's either that or, uh…now I'm thinking that erotic underwear isn't such a bad idea."

Mike gave him a stern look, saying, "That's the last thing I want to be thinking about while working with her."

"You better not be thinking about her in _any_ way, other than either shooting someone to save her life or taking a bullet to do the same."

Mike held up his hands. "Easy, I was only joking. Damn, Eames was right, you don't have a sense of humor." They were quiet for a moment before he said, "I got it. You'll be together two years next month, right? Get her a ring."

"How'd you know how long we've been together?"

Mike froze for a long moment then looked off over his shoulder. Gesturing with his bottle, he answered, "She told me."

Bobby turned and saw Alex approaching them. Scooting over a little, he gave her room to sit down.

She looked from him to Mike and then back to him before asking, "What'd I miss?"

"Oh, just your boyfriend cocking an attitude and drowning himself in scotch."

Bobby glanced over at Mike as he confronted her, "You talked to Logan about us."

Alex sat down next to him and her eyes immediately went to the pack of cigarettes on the table. Looking from the pack of smokes to his eyes, she frowned her frown of disappointment in him yet again as she said, "So what if I did, and you told me you quit smoking."

"I'm said I'm trying and don't change the subject. What're you-"

"And you're already done with your second drink? You got that when I left for the bathroom. I wasn't gone more than five minutes."

"Damn it, Alex," he snapped as his hand smacked the table so hard it caused Mike's empty beer bottle to tip over. "Will you just-" he caught himself as he saw the flash of fear in her eyes. He hit the table again as he grabbed the pack of cigarettes and shot up out of the booth and headed for the back door. "I need some air."

He charged toward the hallway as he heard Mike's voice calling after him. He ignored the calling of his name as he pushed the door open. As soon as the cold air hit him, it was like he'd been awaken with a bucket of cold water. He stood standing in the back alley breathing in the cold air and wondering what in the hell just happened. Losing it like that, especially with Alex and in public, was inexcusable.

Bobby shook his head as he felt the guilt, and then the anger at that guilt, creep into his chest. Not being able to control his temper and not being able to protect Alex from it was driving him crazy. Then to top it all off, he was getting jealous. He pulled out the cigarette he wanted to smoke in the bar and lit it.

The alcohol was making his head buzz and setting heavily into his muscles. He wanted to go home, go to bed, and figure out what he was going to do about everything. Hearing the door open, he breathed out the smoke and turned to see who it was. Alex handed him his overcoat and he tentatively took it, muttering a soft, "Thanks."

"You've got some nerve," she scolded him.

"Why are you talking to Mike about us?" he confronted her again without being able to stop himself.

"Because he cares to actually talk to me and he listens."

"Yeah, I bet he does," he said as he slipped on the coat.

Alex glared up at him asking, "What's that supposed to mean? Since when don't you trust Logan?"

"Who ever said I did? Yeah, we work together, we're partners, and yes, he saved my life, but I also know what kind of guy he is. Shit, Alex, I bet he really enjoyed hearing about our fucked up relationship. Has he offered himself up as a concerned friend yet?"

Alex had that look, the one that told him he was in serious trouble, as she shook her head. "Even if he did, do you not trust me to keep it strictly platonic," she snapped at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Until you come back, he's my partner."

He stared down at her as he took in a deep breath before dropping his eyes to the small space of ground between them. Nodding, he took a drag off the smoke before telling her, "And so was I."

"You actually think…I swear, Bobby, I'm this close," she said in frustration as she looked away to restrain from saying, or doing, something to him.

Sometimes he wished she would. He was getting tired of empty threats, they were becoming predicable and tedious. There were times now when he completely missed them because there was never any follow through.

Alex could threaten all she wanted, he knew now that her bark was bigger than her bite. She didn't lack the nerve to kick some other guys ass, but she would never kick his. She didn't think she had to. If she ever did kick his ass, it would probably constitute as domestic violence…

"You know what, never mind," she said, breaking through his dark thoughts. "Let's go in and get this over with so we can go home. I'm done with it, Bobby, just…" she couldn't even finish what she was saying as she groaned in frustration and opened the door. "I'm done."

That was all she said until they were in the car. Mike had done all the talking with Alex only giving a nod to confirm the facts. They learned that there had been no foul play before the ADA went missing, and from all accounts, he had disappeared at some point after nine the night before. Other than that, they didn't have much to go on and the GPS on Gardner's cell phone had been disabled. Less than ten minutes after their argument in the alley, they were in Alex's car on the way home.

Bobby stared out the passenger window as she drove them away from the bar and out of Manhattan. Taking a cigarette out, he lit it as he thought about the fight they had earlier.

"Will you please put that out?"

He ignored her as he cracked the window to ventilate the smoke.

"Bobby-"

"I'm not putting it out," he answered as he put the cigarette between his lips and took a long drag off it. Blowing the smoke out, he closed his eyes and leaned against the window as he rubbed at his pounding head.

"You know I don't like you smoking in my car."

"Then stop and let me out."

He heard her take a deep breath and sigh but she didn't respond. He knew he'd screwed up in a big way tonight. What else was new? He couldn't do anything right. He couldn't keep her happy because he didn't know how to stop being himself.

He didn't know how to open up to her. He didn't know how to stop himself from getting angry when that was what he felt. He didn't know how to continue doing this. He had never been good at relationships and this was the longest one he'd ever been in and it was falling apart. They were both just too stubborn to let each other go. He knew she still loved him, and he loved her, but it wasn't enough to keep this going forever. Not when he kept pushing her away, but it was how he felt. He felt that she could never love him as much as he loved her. And that in order to protect himself he had to keep her at a distance.

Despite all the times she told him that she loved him, he knew one day he would find out that it was all a lie.

Taking a long drag off the smoke, he stared at it before opening the window and flicking it out. "Sorry." He breathed out as he leaned back in the seat and rubbed at his scar through his shirt.

"Are you okay?"

Bobby shook his head as he sighed heavily.

"We're supposed to be-"

"I don't want to talk right now."

She didn't ask again. Hell, she didn't even yell at him.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

_Greenpoint, Brooklyn_

Once in the apartment, he went straight to the bedroom and started to undress. He got as far as emptying his pockets and unbuttoning his dress shirt before sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He heard Alex walk in and dropped his hands so he could watch her through the mirror on the back of the dresser. The mirror was hers, the dresser was his, and he was certain that soon it would no longer be there. Alex changed out of her work clothes into a pair of cotton pajama pants and a tank top, no socks, and then headed to the bathroom.

Bobby stared into the mirror as he heard the water turn on then the shower. Rubbing at his jaw, his chin, he debated about shaving but it was short lived. He didn't feel like making the effort. He slowly toed off his shoes, slipped his dress shirt off his shoulders and tossed it toward the closet. Reaching down, he unbuckled his belt and pulled the zipper on his pants down before stopping.

Lying back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling as his thoughts bombarded his head. Part of his requirements to return to work had been mandatory post-trauma counseling to get over being shot. They also made him attend Anger Management twice a week for the first month of his recovery. Letting out a deep sigh, he realized that it obviously hadn't work. In fact, he thought the classes made everything worse. The fuse on his temper seemed shortened, less in his control, and he wondered if he should let Deakins know.

Then he thought it didn't matter. If he continued to think he was done with Major Case then there was no point to tell the captain. Running his fingers over the scar tissue above his left hip, he trembled against the immense pain that continued to gnaw away in his gut. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and pulled his legs up to his chest, buried his face in the bedding, and clenched his eyes shut. He took in deep breaths until his heart stopped pounding, as his body calmed.

A few minutes later, as he laid on the bed with his eyes closed, he heard the bathroom door open and then felt her come into the room. Rolling onto his back, he turned his head and saw she was dressed in the clothes she'd taken with her to the bathroom. Her hair was wrapped up in a purple towel, one of hers, and her face was cleared of the makeup she'd been wearing all day. The bed dipped as she sat down and then reached for the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She took out a bottle of lotion, poured some on her hand and then she threw her legs up on the bed as she leaned against the headboard.

She peered down at him while she rubbed the lotion in both hands and then started massaging it over her arms. "What?"

"Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"

Alex sighed and rolled her eyes at him. "You've got impeccable timing there, Goren."

"I'm serious. Alex," he said as he rolled over on his left side, resting right up against her legs, and looked up at her. "I know I've been…uh…"

"Acting like an ass."

Smiling a little despite the twist it gave his heart because he knew it to be true, he said softly, sadly, "Yeah, that." Reaching out, he took hold of her right leg and started rubbing at her ankle, tracing the bone under the skin. "These, uh…therapy sessions…" he said in a near whisper, "they aren't working, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking my frustration out on you. I haven't been thinking clearly…You deserve better, and I-I, uh…I just wanted to tell you that I still think you're wonderful" He slid his hand further up her leg, along her calf. "Beautiful," he said as he caressed along her thigh.

At hearing her sharp intake of breath, Bobby looked up and saw her eyes shut as she took in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes to look at him, he leaned down and kissed at the exposed skin from where her tank top had rode up.

"I don't understand."

Bobby dipped his tongue into her naval he felt her hands play over the back of his neck. He licked up her skin then placed a soft kiss on her stomach before asking, "Understand what?"

"How one day you can go from not wanting me to touch you to…to this," her voice hitched on that last word as his hand slid further up her leg.

When his fingers touched her skin, skin and no underwear, he groaned into her stomach as he felt himself stiffen harder. Once he was able to think again, he teased at her opening as he told her, "Like I said…I haven't been thinking clearly lately. Hey, Alex?"

She glared down at him as she tried to get him to stop teasing her and hurry things along by grounding herself into his hand. "What?"

He saw the irritation mixed with her growing passion and chuckled. "Would you ever wear crotch-less underwear?"

Alex was quiet for a long moment as she just stared at him. Then she asked, "Is not wearing any at all suddenly not good enough?"

He started laughing at the heated look on her face. "I greatly prefer the nothing at all…uh, hang on," he said as he slid his hand back down her leg and then took off his pants. It was starting to get very uncomfortable with clothes on. "But, you know," he kept saying, "I mean like as something…different. You don't own anything erotic or…uh, remotely racy. And that black teddy doesn't count. " He moved up the bed so he was laying next to her and then leaned down to kiss her mouth.

Alex wrapped her arms around his shoulders, moaning into his mouth, as he slid his hand back to her center and then pushed two fingers inside.

When he moved his mouth away from hers to kiss over her neck, she asked while she taking the towel off from around her head, "Is this about Valentine's Day?"

"And if it were?" he said between tasting her skin as his hand worked to slowly bring her off.

Her voice was thick with lust as she said between pants, "Then I would say…if you want to get me something to…God, Bobby, that feels so good."

"To what?"

"What?" she asked in a near squeak that caused him to laugh.

"You said if I want to get you something-"

"Oh, right. If you want to get something to spice up our sex life, that's fine, but it better not be the only thing," she got out in a rush before moving faster against his hand.

Bobby stopped talking, and thinking, as he pumped his hand faster to match her frantic pace. At feeling her fingers touch him through his boxers, he let out a deep groan and jerked his hips forward. Then her fingers moved the fabric aside and the moment he felt her fingers wrap around him, he gasped a little from how cold they were but mostly to how good it felt.

His other hand, his left, rubbed at her breast through the tank top until Alex had enough of that and pulled the damn thing off. As he captured a nipple in his mouth, she gave a cry as her body tensed then convulsed under him and around his fingers as she came. Through her rapid body jerking and moan, she continued to stroke him faster and tighter. Needing to come inside her, he stopped her movements as he released her breast from his mouth.

As she got her breathing under control, he kicked off his boxers and removed her pajama bottoms, tossing them both on the floor. Settling himself between her legs, he used his knees to spread them apart as he entered her in one swift motion.

TBC…


	2. Thursday, February 10th, 2005

A/N: Since I'm breaking chapters up in days, they are going to be long. This is an especially long day with a lot going on so bear with me.

* * *

><p>(Again, the last part of chapter is Rated M.)<p>

_Bobby & Alex's Apartment_

"_Don't think for one second that this is the end of 'us', Bobby."_

He jerked awake shivering in his own cold sweat with her voice lingering in his head. Staring at the closed window in the dark room, he moaned into the bed then rolled onto his back as he rubbed his hand through his wet hair. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was after midnight. He'd fallen asleep after making love to Alex and hadn't even realized it. At feeling the sticky fabric of his boxers against his skin, he sat up and pulled them off, leaving them where they fell as he went over to the dresser and got out a clean pair.

After using the bathroom and taking the time to clean himself up, he padded down the hallway, checking every door, room, and window he passed on the way to the kitchen. He checked the back door, the alarm, and then went to the cabinet and pulled down the bottle of scotch along with a glass. In the living room, he got comfortable in the recliner and poured himself a drink as he let his mind wonder. He thought about work, he thought about his temper, he thought about the shooting and his pain, but most of all he thought about Alex.

Bobby knew that what he was putting her through wasn't right. It wasn't good and it wasn't healthy for a relationship. Tonight had been unexpected; he had expected her to reciprocate his affection, but she had and they had made love. He knew it didn't fix anything, and that things still weren't okay with them, but it had felt damn good. Finishing one glass, he filled another as he heard Polly, Alex's bird, start to chirp and flap its wings. That damn bird never slept.

Bobby closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair as he swallowed the warm scotch down his rough throat. Nothing else had felt that good in a long time. His world had been feeling wrong, as if it was all slipping away. His job, his relationship, his control, his home. His time on Staten Island had changed everything, including him. He didn't feel like the same man he'd been before. He felt different, like something had been ripped out of him like that bullet.

Why couldn't everything be back the way it was before? He felt the burning in his eyes and then the wetness that escaped his clenched eyelids. Reaching up, he pressed his thumb and forefinger hard against the edges, stopping the tears as he shook with grief.

Things had been shifting and with each new shift the more unstable he felt. He hated that feeling, like he wasn't completely whole. It made all the holes in him feel emptier, deeper, and more painful. He wished Alex could fill it, could stop the shifting, but he knew there was nothing she could do to help him. This wasn't the first time he had his world flipped upside down.

Downing a third glass, he filled it for the fourth time as he stared blankly at the wall across from him and didn't think of anything as he swallowed down the fourth. He realized he was needing a lot of things lately. Nothing was good enough, or satisfying enough anymore. He always needed something more, something else, because nothing worked. The most important thing he needed was…he needed…another bottle.

Tossing the empty bottle on the table, he stumbled to his feet, dropping the glass to the floor as the room swayed. He picked up the fallen glass and carried it with him into the kitchen. Searching the cabinets, he didn't find another bottle of scotch so he sat the glass in the sink and went to the refrigerator where he took out a beer instead.

He saw the light on his cell phone light up before he registered the ringing. Looking at the clock, he wondered who would be calling him at close to one in the morning. Picking it up off the charger, he stared at the number he didn't recognize before saying to hell with it. It was probably a wrong number anyway.

"'Ello?" he spoke into the phone and trying to sound as sober as possible.

It was silent for a short pause before he heard the voice again. _Her _voice. "My, my, Bobby, have you been drinking?"

_Christ. _He leaned on the counter and debated about staying on the phone or not. The fact that he was even fighting the urge to hang up startled him. It should have been his first response, automatic, to hang up the phone but it wasn't. He never could.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, oh…or is it your bed warmer who's keeping you from talking?"

Sighing heavily into the phone, he straightened and glanced over his shoulder into the living room before going over to the kitchen table where he sat. Holding the bottle of beer in his left hand, phone in his right, he leaned back in the chair and said, "It's late, Nicole, what'd you want?"

He wasn't even going to touch on that 'bed warmer' comment. He didn't want her to know how much that jab hurt.

"No pleasantries? You're not going to ask how I've been-"

"If I cared, I would've asked."

"So, this is what you're like when you've been drinking. You're a brute."

"Believe me, it's not the alcohol," he told her before he took a sip of the beer. After a moment, he asked again, "So…what'd you want?"

She was silent a moment before saying almost in a gentle, sympathetic manner, "The last time we were face-to-face I offered a truce."

"No, the last time we were face-to-face, you killed your lover. You cut her throat and tossed her in the river…faked your own death. A truce with you, that's like me giving you permission to keep on killing, isn't it? I told you that…that evil, Nicole, evil's unrelenting in its pursuits."

"And so is our relationship. Many things are unrelenting that plague mankind. We're all inflicted with our weakness. "

Bobby stared at the table as he tried to think but his head was swimming and quite frankly, he wasn't in the mood to think. Taking a sip of the beer, he decided to just go with it. She obviously called for some twisted reason.

"Been sleeping much lately, Bobby?"

"Have you? I'm thinking that you haven't found a new, uh…_replacement. _That's why you gotta call me, mind-fuck me since you can't do it to anyone else."

"Why, aren't we testy. I thought you would enjoy playing tit-for-tat…it's one of our favorite games."

He nearly laughed at that as he propped his feet up on the other chair and got more comfortable. "Then answer me. I'm right, aren't I? You're all out of playmates."

"And where is your _little playmate_, hm? Asleep while you're pacing around, taking comfort the bottle instead of _in_ her. You're reminding me of your father. All you need is a mistress," she said in that squealing laugh that made his fist tighten. It was annoying as hell. "Then again, you are talking to me at one in the morning. We're all your mistresses, aren't we, Bobby? Your criminals. It's no wonder you can't sleep."

His eyes closed as he remembered what had awaken him. He wondered if his mind somehow knew that she was going to call him; that it had picked up on some unknown pattern that had developed between them and he just knew.

Working his jaw back-and-forth, he let of a deep breath and took another sip of the beer. Not wanting to go down that road with her, he changed the subject. "He did that a lot…My father, I mean. I remember waking in the middle of the night, and hearing him…He would be talking to himself or yelling at my mother, drunk, and pacing up and down the hall."

"Were you afraid?"

"Not for myself. He never came into our bedroom, but…I could hear her…down the hall."

She was silent a moment before saying, "You could hear your mother crying?"

Bobby opened his eyes and said, "Was that what it was like for you? Did your…too _drunk _of a mother, who refused to save you, to help you, cry out? Did she ever cry for you, Nicole?" For once, Nicole was quiet on the other end of the phone. He'd scored a direct hit. "What's the matter, Nicole…cat got _your _tongue?" he asked as he smile slightly into the phone. _Got you, you bitch. _"Well, did she, Nicole? Did she shed one _speck_ of tear for you? Or did she turn away…give you the cold shoulder, refuse to even look at you? I bet she blamed you. It was your fault, right? Just like it was your daughters…It was why you had to kill her. No wonder you failed as a mother…Tell me, Nicole, did you cry for her? Did you cry for your own daughter, for that little innocent child? I think, I think you didn't…I think you became just like her. Like mother, like daughter, huh, Nicole?"

He knew he was bordering along cruelty, but he no longer cared. He wanted to hurt her; he was done trying to sympathize and care about that sparkling little girl. All he felt was pain and he wanted her to suffer right along with him.

"I was a good mother," she spat at him before asking him furiously, "What about you? Poor, Bobby, too scared to even try. Afraid of it becoming like mummy dearest."

"It's the same ol' shit with you. Same bullets, same wounds…"

"What plagues you, Bobby?" she asked. "What are you so afraid of that you're willing to ruin another relationship for?"

He searched his mind for something, for anything, to come back with but couldn't. His anger was taking over and he couldn't push the feeling down as his hand clenched the phone. "Have…have you been watching me?" he asked as the fear clenched his chest. Looking around the empty kitchen, he scanned over the backdoor, out the windows in the door, and then out the window next to the table.

She was laughing on the phone and it made his jaw twitch. "My dear Bobby, I don't need to watch you to know how you think. Remember, I've been there before. I've felt what you're feeling."

"And how can you know what I'm feeling, Nicole? You have to be somewhat human to _feel_."

"It's like a changing current inside, where nothing feels right or good. All you feel is pain, and hate, until you numb it all. What would you give to feel nothing at all?"

He went to speak when but his mouth suddenly felt dry as he tried to figure out how she could know that. "How'd…?"

"I had you figured our first meeting. I saw what it is that's in that bottomless pit you call a soul," she said, throwing his words right back at him. "Your emptiness, your darkness. Turnabout's fair play, Bobby. And now I'm your messenger. You know, I always knew you enjoyed inflicting pain on others with your so-called interrogations, but when we started our little game, I realized you needed to have the pain inflicted right back. Why do you do that? Is it some sort of idealized sense of a just world?"

"I don't-" his voice nearly cracked as he clenched his eyes shut against the sudden jolt of pain that shot through his gut. He hated to admit that she was right. He did think that. If the world was a just place, then he deserved the pain he suffered from the pain he caused others to suffer.

"Tit for tat, Bobby, it's the repaying of wrong done. The repayment of a wrong or injury suffered by inflicting equivalent harm on the doer. I hurt you, so you get to hurt me right back, those are the rules of the game. A game you _made us _play."

Bobby stared down at the floor as he covered his mouth and clenched his eyes shut as he listened.

She was silent for a moment and he heard her laughing softly. "You act like such an honorable gentleman, so dignified, but the truth is you get off on inflicting and enduring pain, don't you? Why, Bobby, some would call you a sadomasochist. Now, that's no way for a gentleman to behave."

"You're the one who enjoys inflicting pain. You're the one who doesn't respect anyone, not even yourself. You're projecting what you are onto me."

"Who said anything about respect, all I was wondering was if you still trust her?" Before he could hang up, he heard those words and he nearly froze. "Has she become more than just a warm body next to yours? Does she know all your deep, _dark_ secrets…I didn't think so."

Breathing heavily to keep from going off, he buried his head in his hand and shook as the anger boiled inside of him.

"Trust is hard to come by for people like us. We're practically one in the same." When he refused to speak, he heard her say, "Tell me something, do you keep these little chats from her? So many lies, so much she doesn't know."

Taking a sharp intake of breath, he shook his head into the phone, unable to speak. How did this happen? Somewhere along the line, he stopped putting up a defense. He stopped playing the game and had practically given her the win. That pissed him off even more. He let _her_ get the best of _him_.

"One more question, then I'll let you get back to drinking your misery away." She was silent a long moment and he wondered if she'd actually hung up on him and then he heard, "In the warehouse, if…Bobby, if I had been in there, what would you have done?"

Bobby realized what she was asking, and he knew exactly why she asked and why she needed to know. He would have shot her; he would have ended her life. "You know what I would've done."

"Would you have hesitated?"

His stomach gnawed and twisted as he gritted out, trying to keep himself from breaking down over the phone, "Not for a second."

"And," she said in a near whisper, "what would you have felt?"

He took a moment to steady his breathing but his voice nearly trembled as he told her, "Pure satisfaction in knowing that you would never be able to hurt anyone else ever again."

"Huh," she quietly said, mostly to herself like it was a contemplation. "So, that's how you justify murder…I should remember that. You and I, Bobby, we'll never be over. Even if you do ever kill me, I'll still be with you. Sweet dreams, darling."

He clicked off the phone and tossed it onto the table with a renewed sense of loss and emptiness, but most of all he felt angry. And to think he had felt so happy just a few hours before. Staring at the phone, that feeling quickly intensified as he buried his head in his empty hand and cursed because he had once against let her in to poke and pry at his wounds. And despite what he had told her, it did hurt.

"_We're practically one in the same" _Unable to stop her words from spinning around his head, he got up to pace around as the nervous energy continued to wreck over his body. His hand was shaking as he downed the rest of the beer and when he tossed it into the recycling bin. "That…_bitch_!"he grunted out as he kicked at the chair as he felt the anger explode in him.

He heard Polly chirping furiously in the next room as the noise stopped him from kicking it again. Fearing that it would wake Alex up, if she wasn't up already, he slumped against the wall and took in a deep breath.

"What the fuck's the matter with me?" he asked the ceiling as he looked up at it in quiet desperation. Feeling himself start to shake with that question, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out another bottle before leaving the kitchen.

Polly kept chirping and it was pulling at his nerves. He couldn't take the constant noise; it was annoying and made his head hurt. Going into the study, he shut the door behind him and then grabbed the two thick case files that were stacked on top of one another on the desk over to the couch. Tossing them on the couch, he reached up and clicked on the standing lamp that used to be in his bedroom before sitting down. Leaning back into the couch, he stared at the ceiling as he sipped on the cold beer as his finger rubbed over the manila file folder that was beside him.

After downing half the bottle, he sat it on the floor and then flipped open the top file.

* * *

><p>Alex woke to the sound of the alarm beeping loudly in her ear. Jerking her arm toward the obtrusive noise, she knocked the clock to the floor but it kept beeping. She grumbled angrily as she reached down and picked it up. Hitting the snooze button, she rolled back over, toward Bobby's side of the bed, and snuggled into the cold pillow.<p>

Reaching out, she felt the bed then pushed herself up. Looking at the empty spot and then around the room, she groaned. Alex didn't have to guess to know where he was or what he had done while she slept. While she threw the blanket off, she thought that if Bobby wanted to pace around the house at night there wasn't much she could do about it. She had never been able to stop him before. Bobby always did what he wanted, when he wanted, no matter what.

As she got ready for work, she decided it was time to get off the emotional rollercoaster ride that was Bobby Goren. Yes, last night when they arrived home had been great, but she couldn't trick herself into thinking he was better now because he wasn't. She did still love him, but not enough to ruin herself for. She would take a bullet for that man, but there was only so much of his shit she could take before she had enough. She couldn't deal with it anymore. That had been what she had been debating with yesterday, or rather the night before, and why she had woken Bobby at two in the morning. His refusal to talk about it had been the final straw.

She hated to admit that she was scared to even talk to him sometimes. It was impossible to talk to him because no matter what she said he saw it as some kind-of an attack that he had to defend himself against. The more he varied from cold apathy to uncontrolled anger the less she trusted his reactions. She was walking on eggshells around him and she was damn sick of it. The scary part was that she believed he was totally oblivious to what he was doing.

The growl in her stomach brought her out of her thoughts as she slipped on her boots; she was hungry but the stress was also twisting her gut so bad she didn't know if she would be able to eat. As soon as she rounded the hallway into the living room, she noticed the empty scotch bottle on the table. Picking it up, she took it into the kitchen and tossed it before preparing the coffee machine.

Going back into the living room, she looked around for anymore trash but didn't see anything. Another thing she didn't see was Bobby. She went to the door to the study and tried the knob first. This time it was unlocked and so she stepped in and saw him asleep on the couch. One of the windows above it was cracked open and on the ledge was the overflowing ashtray. Scattered on the floor were two case files she hadn't seen before.

Kneeling down, she turned one file toward her and flipped through the thick stack of documents and crime scene photos. Her stomach knotted when she realized that he was looking over his own case files. She had no idea why he was looking at the file on his abduction two years ago; there was nothing pending with that case. No parole board hearings. And with the shooting, the Grand Jury had handed down indictments, but even if he was called in to testify during the trials, it wasn't like he needed a reminder of what happened.

Sighing, she reached up and shoved him on the shoulder. "Bobby, get up."

He groaned as he reached up and hit her arm away. "I'm up, I'm up," he slurred as he rolled onto his back and rubbed at his eyes. Blinking them open, Bobby asked, "What time's it?"

"Time to go to work, but in your case maybe you should call in."

"I'm going."

"Not with that smell on your breath," Alex said as she left him to get himself up as she went back into the kitchen.

She ate a yogurt and an orange as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She heard the shower running as she pulled down a cup and filled it, added sugar, and then decided on making herself a BLT. While the bacon was frying in the pan, she got out the lettuce, tomato, mayo, and bread. Once the bacon was done she added some of the strips to the sandwich and left the rest for Bobby.

Taking in the time, she quickly ate, finished her second cup of coffee and then grabbed her purse, shield, gun, and car keys just as Bobby entered the kitchen. He had his dress shirt buttoned but un-tucked, tie hanging around his neck, and his hair was damp. In his hand he carried his suit jacket which he tossed on the back of a chair. Dark circles hollowed out his blood shot eyes and his face was pale and unshaven.

"Bobby, you don't have to go in. I'll tell Deakins-"

"I don't need you to cover my ass," he snapped. Taking a breath, he rubbed at his eyes as he told her, "I said I'm going in. I'm on desk duty anyway."

She sighed and closed her eyes. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn? "And that makes it okay? You shouldn't be going in at all. It's obvious you're not ready."

He glanced up at her as he went over to the sink and grabbed a coffee cup out of the strainer. Then he surprised her by walking over to her and leant down to give her a kiss on her cheek, telling her, "Last night was amazing." As he moved away, and buttoning his cuff, he said, "You don't have to wait on me. I'll drive myself or take the subway."

Shaking her head at him, she turned and opened the back door, saying, "Take the subway. I'll see you later."

Bobby didn't answer her and honestly, she wasn't expecting him to.

* * *

><p><em><span>One Police Plaza<span>_

Bobby sat in the chair in front of Deakins desk and sipped on the black coffee as he willed the pounding behind his eyes away. He knew that the captain wasn't going to be happy with him being late, but his car wouldn't start so he had to hurry to catch the subway. He'd called Lewis while en-route to 1PP, so hopefully it would be working by tonight.

Deakins had yelled at him when he'd entered the squad room, telling him to get in his office. He knew why Deakins was upset. His captain had gone up against the Chief to get him back early, sooner than what the department wanted. He still had counseling, he still had to re-qualify on his weapon, and he had to have an oral review in front of the board before being permitted to return to full duty status. He'd done none of those things yet Deakins had gotten him back to work.

He owed his captain, but instead of coming into work on time and sober like a good employee, he was late and recovering from a hangover. The thing that scared him the most was that he didn't care. Normally, he would care. His job, his work, was the only thing that kept him going. It was who he was.

Bobby drained the coffee and looked for the trash can when he heard a smack on the desk. He barely jerked at the sound as he looked over and saw Deakins glaring at him.

"Goren, I've been talking to you for five minutes; have you even been listening?"

"Would it matter? I was late, you spent the last five minutes reprimanding me…Can I get to work now?"

Deakins sat stunned for a moment, and then said, "Do you want a suspension on top of being written up for insubordination?"

"No, I, uh…I apologize, Captain." Bobby said as he looked away, spotting the trash can under the table against the wall. He got up and threw it away and headed for the door, asking, "Are we done?"

"Not even close, sit down," Deakins said with an air of frustration as he stood and came around the front of the desk.

He sighed and sat heavily in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Bobby felt his jaw twitch as he stared at the floor. It took all the control he had to not start yelling. His hands fisted into his jacket, balling up fabric as he tried to keep a hold on his temper.

Deakins sat on the edge of the desk, arms over his chest, as he stared down at him. "Is there anything you need to tell me?"

Shaking his head, he kept his eyes on the floor as he reached up to rub at his dark, red-rimmed eyes, as the pain throbbed through his head.

"Being hung over is something very important to tell me, don't you think?"

"I'm working a desk."

"That's beside the point."

"My last drink was over eight hours ago-"

"Is that the reason why you came in an hour late?"

Bobby rubbed at his face and head as he tried to stop the flare of anger that tightened his jaw. "My judgment isn't impaired. I'm more than capable of doing my job, Captain."

Deakins shifted on the desk, crossing his arms as he let out a breath. "You should have called in. Did Alex know you were like this?"

"She's no longer my superior-"

"I know that, but she lives in the same house as you. If there's a problem and she knows about it and doesn't inform me-" The phone shrilling stopped his rant as he instantly picked it up, barking out, "Deakins." He held up a finger to him, telling him to 'wait' as he listened for a moment before closing his eyes as he cursed. "Yes, Chief, we're debriefing now…An hour? That's cutting it close, but I'll see what I can do." He hung up the phone and continued, "I'm writing you up for being late and insubordination. And I never want you in here again under this condition, is that clear?"

He knew he was catching a break, and he also knew better than to say anything that would make Deakins change his mind. Giving a curt nod, Bobby said, "Yes, sir." He moved to stand but was stopped with a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay put," Deakins told him before he opened the door and called out, "Logan, Eames!"

_Logan, Eames…_That sounded almost acceptable. Bobby glanced over his shoulder as he saw them walking together toward the office. Once in the office, Alex sat next to him while Logan leaned against the filing cabinet with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What'd we know?" Deakins asked as he pulled open his desk drawer and took out a bottle of aspirin.

"ADA Gardner was last seen yesterday evening by the doorman to his apartment building at nine oh nine, exactly," Alex said, starting off the debrief.

"And how does he know the exact time Gardner walked through the lobby?"

"He said he received a phone call at the precise moment he spotted Gardner approaching the building. He got up to let him in, they greeted each other as he answered the phone, supposedly from a girlfriend, and went back to the desk while Gardner went to the elevator."

"Okay, so Gardner's fiancée wasn't home that evening?"

Alex smiled as she said, "They weren't living together. According to her, they were waiting until they got hitched."

Deakins looked shocked and amused by that. "That's the first in a long time. No calls to and from that evening?"

"We don't have his cell to check and she's claiming he never did. Her cell phone verifies her account, at least for now. We need a warrant to pull her lugs."

"And that didn't draw suspicion from her, him not calling?" Deakins asked before popping the pills in his mouth and swallowing them down with the coffee on his desk.

"According to her, he closed himself off before a big case, or in this case, Grand Jury hearing. She didn't bother calling him because she didn't want to interrupt his 'process'."

"You believe her?"

"As of now we have no reason not to."

Deakins looked at him and asked, "And what about his office?"

Bobby shrugged as he told him, "Same story. Gardner never showed up that morning and his secretary assumed he was just preparing for the hearing. He's done that before, not come in as usual on the day of a big case. She said sometimes he didn't show until after lunch if it was an afternoon hearing. When he didn't yesterday, she got worried but didn't think anything of it until…uh, well, until it was too late."

"Any thoughts on what he does when he's not at the office during these 'big case' days?"

They all shook their heads as they thought of the possibilities. Bobby then cleared his throat as he said, "When I tried to look at his calendar or in his files, Ileana stopped me and demanded a warrant so I couldn't get anything more than her word on the events of the past day. We need those files, everything he's been working on since January. I think we shouldn't assume that his disappearance has anything to do with the Patterson case."

"_Ileana_?" Alex asked as she looked over at him.

Bobby just shrugged, saying, "That's her name. Ileana Peltier…she's French."

"Are you two done?" Deakins asked, interrupting them as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "And I agree with you Goren that's why I want to split you guys up. Logan, Eames, I want you two to look into other possible motives for this. Try to find something by the end of the day and I'll talk to Carver about securing warrants so we can look at Gardner's files. Goren, I want you to head over to SVU and look into the Patterson case. Talk to the detectives who were involved and see what they had as of evidence, witnesses, talk to the victim, and maybe anyone who defended Patterson so strongly-"

"That they would kill for him," he finished as he gave a nod. "I'm on it."

"Wait, why does Goren get to work the Patterson angle?"

Deakins looked over at Logan as he answered him, "Because he doesn't have a gun and he's not completely cleared yet. By putting him with the SVU detectives, he'll have backup."

Bobby studied Logan as he fumed but relented once Deakins set him straight. He didn't know why Logan was so gung ho about this case, especially the Patterson aspect to it, but he was suspecting more and more that it had to do with the crime Guy Patterson had been accused of.

Deciding to leave it alone and that it was none of his business, Bobby stood and went to the door. Before he could leave, Deakins called out for him.

"Bobby, hold up." When he turned around to see what else he wanted, Deakins told him, "You'll do what you can at SVU but you aren't missing your appointment at one o'clock. Once done, take the rest of the day. I want you back tomorrow a hundred percent."

Bobby knew better to argue with that; he was lucky he hadn't been suspended. Breathing out, he gave a nod and finally opened the door the rest of the way and left.

* * *

><p><em><span>Special Victims Unit<span>_

_16__th__ Precinct, Manhattan_

The moment he entered the SVU bullpen, he hear a loud shriek and then a crash. He dropped his binder someone's desk as he hurried with several others down the hallway toward the holding cell. One uniform got through the door before he made it through and his eyes caught sight of Elliot pinning down a teenage boy who was thrashing around on the floor. In the teens hands he saw a something metallic sticking out between his fingers but what panicked him was the blood.

"Get a medic," he told the uniform as he knelt down and went to grab the boy's hand that held the object.

"Don't," Elliot commanded through clenched teeth as he held the boy's arms down. "He's HIV positive."

Bobby stilled as he noticed the gloves Elliot wore as he muttered a curse under his breath. Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, he pulled out a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on before he grabbed the boy's hand and twisted his fingers back.

The boy let out another high-pitched shriek but he dropped the object to the floor. As he kept the boy's hand in his right, he reached out with his left and picked up the object. Bringing it up to the light, he saw that it was a screw like the kind that held the bed frame together in the cell.

"What is it?" Elliot asked as he tried to see.

" A screw. He must have found a loose one in the bed frame."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Elliot breathed out as the boy went slack under him. "About time he passed out. Give me a hand, let's get him turned over."

By the time they got the boy rolled over and his right hand cuffed, the cell was overrun by two medics who dressed the cuts on the boy's wrists and then got him secured on the stretcher. Bobby cuffed the other end of the handcuffs to the stretcher and let them take the boy out of the cell.

"Make sure he's admitted to psych services, and keep him cuffed," Elliot called out to the uniform who went with the medics. Turning to him, he smiled a little as he let out a breath. "Thanks for the help, but what're you doing here?"

Bobby went to wipe the sweat off his brow but stopped himself. "Uh, can we talk about that after we get rid of these gloves?"

"Good thinking. C'mon," Elliot showed him out and toward the men's restroom. Another medic was in the bullpen packing up a bag and he had him come with them.

Bobby cleaned his hands about ten times with antibacterial soap the medic had given them before he was satisfied that he was sterile. Elliot probably would have joked with him if he hadn't done the same. "Relax, Elliot, we wore gloves and neither one of us had any open wounds and we didn't touch anywhere."

"I know," Elliot said but he made sure the medic checked them both out before he finally allowed them to leave the restroom.

"If you're still concerned," the medic told Elliot. "Wear a condom until you're able to get tested."

Bobby chuckled as he walked over to the desk he'd dropped his binder. The detective sitting at that desk glared at him until he was back across the room.

"So," Elliot said as they walked over to his desk. "You're here because of the ADA who went missing?"

"Yeah, uh…He was to present to the Grand Jury about the Guy Patterson case yesterday afternoon when he never showed."

Elliot leaned against his desk and crossed his arms as he stared hard at him. Bobby knew him well enough by now to know it wasn't him who Elliot had that look for, but the suspect.

"Let me guess, you were assigned to the case?"

Elliot took a breath, steadying himself before he nodded, telling him, "Me and Liv, yeah."

"So, what can you tell me?"

"He was a coach at St. Luke's Catholic High School here in Manhattan. In October, a student came forward accusing him of sexual misconduct."

"And, who, uh…who was that?" he asked as he tried to remember the details of the case he'd read about or seen on the news.

"Caleb Cunningham. He's a 16, played basketball and baseball for the school. Patterson was his coach for both sports."

"These assaults, they happened in the locker room, right?"

Elliot gave a nod. "In the showers. Shortly after Caleb came forward, four more did the same."

"Anything else about Patterson…Is he married? Kids?"

"He's married. Wife is Audrey; she was a guidance counselor at the same high school. They have two kids, a son, Zach, and a daughter, Chloe. They live in a house on Long Island and the family pet is a cat."

Bobby glanced up at him at that and saw him smirking but he wrote it down in his binder anyway. It would remind him when he went out to the house to take some allergy medication beforehand. "Oh, and I'm going to need to see your case file on it."

"You think he had something to do with the ADA's disappearance?" Elliot asked as he opened the drawer to his desk and looked through his files.

"We're covering all bases at this point," he said off-handedly as he spotted Detective Benson walking through the doors and over toward them. Her hands were full of takeout bags and he immediately put his binder down on Elliot's desk and took two bags and the drink carrier from her.

"Thanks, Bobby. Food's here!" she shouted to into the room.

As Bobby sat the drinks and bag down, he moved back as Detective Munch and Fin rushed over to take claim to what was theirs, leaving only two drinks and one bag remaining for Elliot and Benson.

Fin gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder as he passed him. Bobby watched as Fin started conversing with Munch at their desks when Elliot handed him the file. It wasn't as thick as he was hoping it would be.

"There wasn't any physical evidence because he never performed anal sex on any of them," Elliot told him as he opened the bag and took out two burgers and something wrapped in foil before handing the bag over to his partner. "He took no pictures, no video. All we had to go on were the victims statements and they all stated the same thing. That they were fondled by the coach while they took showers. Usually when they were alone. Caleb was the only one who claimed the abuse carried on outside of the locker room during the times when Patterson would volunteer to drive him home after practice."

"Despite lack of evidence, ADA Gardner felt he had enough to indict him on all five counts?"

"We also found kiddie porn in his house," Benson told him as she chewed on her food. Grabbing the large cup of soda, she took a sip and then went back to eating.

Elliot shook his head at her before turning back to him. "Nothing was found in the car or at his office at the high school." He unwrapped the foil and Bobby saw it was grilled potatoes, peppers, and onions. "And he couldn't make a case for all five, just one."

"Caleb Cunningham."

Elliot gave a nod as he took a sip of his drink. "You can't take that with you, but you can use the interrogation room if you want to look it over."

"Thanks, I'll, uh…I'll do that." Bobby put the file in his binder and then headed for the interrogation room; stopping short, he turned and walked back. "I don't need to let your Captain know?"

"He's not in right now, but I'll tell him if he comes in."

Giving a nod, he went to the empty interrogation room so he could review the file in peace and quiet. Halfway through the file, he went out into the bullpen to grab a cup of coffee and then returned to the room. A few minutes later he discovered the only other interesting fact about the case that Benson and Elliot hadn't already told him; Guy Patterson never once admitted to the charges or any wrong doing, and he claimed that the child pornography that was found in his home didn't belong to him.

Bobby looked through the submission of evidence and the photos taken from Patterson's home. The magazines had been discovered in the basement of home that had been remodeled as a sort of family game room with a big screen television, couches, bean bag chairs, and a pool and card table.

It was surprising because most adults hid their porn stash in places like the bedroom or office, the study in his case, but hardly ever the family game room. Bobby picked up the cup of coffee and felt it empty. Leaving the files on the table, he left the room and took a glance at his watch. He had an hour before he had to leave in order to make it to his appointment.

As he picked up the coffee pot, he looked over toward Elliot's desk and spotted Benson coming his way. She had a concerned look on her face and he briefly wondered if it was for him or not.

Then she leaned against the table and asked, "Hey, Bobby, how have you been?"

Bobby took a wary glance at her as he refilled the cup. "If this is about something specific…"

She waved her hand and he wasn't sure what that meant, but decided not to speak again until after she did. He sat the cup down and reached for a stirring straw and the creamer at the same time.

"It's just that I've been talking to Alex a lot over the past month and I'm concerned."

Bobby sat the creamer down and tossed the straw away before he even had a chance to add the creamer to his coffee. "Look, Benson-"

"You can call me Olivia, or Liv."

Turning to her, he said, "So, you think because you're friends with my girlfriend that suddenly makes you my friend?"

She gave him a startled look as she said tentatively, "I thought we were."

Bobby slightly shook his head as he said, "You don't know me…And I don't know you. Excuse me." He picked up his cup and headed back to the interrogation room.

* * *

><p><em><span>304 W. 44<span>__th__ Street, Manhattan_

His hour long Post-Trauma counseling sessions were held in an old office building on the corner of 44th and 8th Avenue, that had been converted into classrooms that were used for everything from AA to Cancer Survivor meetings. Bobby thought the location, seeing how it was above Dempsey's, a bar, made the AA meetings pretty hard to endure. He couldn't imagine the amount of temptation that put on a person.

It was a small group, only five cops, sitting in a classroom on the third floor drinking bad coffee. They all looked as bored as he felt staring at the shrink in the middle of the room giving them advice on how to deal with traumatic events. Bobby had a feeling the shrink had never experienced a truly traumatic experience in his entire twenty-nine years in existence.

The young man, whose name escaped him, was perched on the edge of the table in front of the room dressed casually in a black polo shirt and blue jeans. On his left ring finger was a gold wedding band, a gold Rolex was on his left wrist, and his shoes were a two thousand dollar pair of John Lobb's, kind-of like the same ones that Nicole Wallace bought Mark Bayley…They were even tan. The kid had no sense of style. Having money must've been a new thing for the shrink; he remembered those days himself, before his love affair with Armani.

Even though there were only five of them, they were spread out over the ten chairs in the room. To his left was Timothy Brooks, was a homicide detective from the 2-5 in Manhattan. Brooks was there because he and his partner, Adam Henry, were involved in a police shooting and Henry had been killed right in front of him. That had happened only a few days after his own shooting; they had entered the sessions together and since had paired up for whatever assignment the shrink had them participate in during class.

Sitting two chairs in front of him was John 'Doc' Hanlon, a desk sergeant out of the 67th Precinct. The old man was a Vietnam vet, having served with the 1st Infantry in the Army and was what they had called a tunnel rat. The guy would go in the bellows of the jungle, in the pitch dark with nothing but a gun and a flashlight, and clear out any enemy soldiers. That took major balls to do something like that. A lot of them never returned from the tunnels.

Doc was there because he had pulled his gun for the first time since joining the NYPD nearly thirty years ago. Maybe it would have been okay if the person he pulled it on hadn't been a ten year old kid who pointed a paintball gun at him while in the middle of the lobby. Some of the cops were taking bets on how long Doc would last; they all knew his days wearing a badge were numbered.

Elvis Ortiz sat in the far back corner even though the shrink asked him every session to sit closer. Ortiz was a Narcotics detective from Brooklyn North, which was his old stomping grounds. The detective was there because during a raid, everything went to hell and he'd been shot along with two others. None of them had died, but Ortiz had been the lucky one seeing how he was already in the process of getting back on the job. One of the cops, Christina Beck, was receiving a medical retirement and the other, Fred Paxton, had slipped into coma.

Rounding out the five man group was Jimmy Lester who worked out of the 4-0. He was a rookie patrol cop who shot a twenty-two year old shoplifter last week. Lester was on suspension pending an IA investigation and shooting board hearing. Until he got his gun back, he had to endure these sessions because he'd taken a life, his first.

After the shrink was done with his lecture and "advice", it was text book stuff anyway, they would have "group discussion" where they would all have to talk about their experiences and what they felt in an attempt to make them feel like they weren't alone. For the most part, they would bullshit around and talk about the job. Swap stories and tall-tales and arrange to meet up afterwards for a drink.

Downing the horrible coffee and taking a glance at the clock, he realized he'd been lost in his head for nearly forty minutes. The session was almost over and he hadn't heard a single word of the lecture. On the white board, written in red marker, were the five Kubler-Ross stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and finally Acceptance.

He never agreed with those stages and he had hardly ever seen people actual go through them in that precise order. There was a lesser known, three stages of grief and loss, by a Dr. Roberta Temes that he agreed with more and it actually made sense to him. They were: Numbness, Disorganization, and then Reorganization. It made more sense because human emotions were complex and so were every experience of grief or loss, that each individual's reactions were complex, but they all went through those three stages. Whether in those stages they experience anger or depression or bargaining, that was up to them, but it didn't hinder the process.

The more he thought about it the more he thought that they were both right. That the stages intermingled, blending into one another. Within the three stages of Dr. Temes theory were the five stages of Kubler-Ross…That could work. He could make it into an argument.

"Okay, everyone, for the last ten minutes it's group discussion."

"Thank God," Bobby muttered under his breath as he straightened in the chair and leaned forward on his knees. "Hey, Doc, any word yet about getting back on the job?"

Doc sighed and grounded out, "The bastards are pushing for my retirement. It's bullshit, I tell ya, but I'm getting to the point of doing it just to get those assholes off my back."

Bobby nodded as he glanced over at Brooks and smirked. He had two hundred on Doc not going back after the sessions; that he'd take his thirty years come March and move to Florida.

Brooks groaned and closed his eyes, having bet that Doc would at least put in another six months as he tried to tough it out in order to prove he still had it. Lester and Ortiz moved to chairs next to them as they all started shooting the shit about nothing in particular until it was time to go. Ten minutes of BS after fifty of BS was getting him in the mood for a good glass of scotch as they all walked out together on their way downstairs to Dempsey's.

Within a matter of minutes from leaving the classroom, Bobby was at the bar ordering a scotch as he listened to Lester and Ortiz argue about college hoops while Doc sat silently beside him. Brooks had headed to the men's room, and a few seconds later, he spotted the shrink walk in on his cell phone.

"Hey, Mitch," he said to the bartender as he took his glass. "First rounds on me, and get that guy who just walked in a double. He needs it after all the shit he talked about for an hour."

The cops he'd walked in with all laughed as the rest of the customers cheered him for buying them drinks.

"What's the occasion, Goren?" Ortiz asked as he accepted his free drink. "You still have four more sessions left."

"Yeah," Doc said, "What's going on? You're getting married or something?"

"Nah, a guy like Goren doesn't do stupid things like marriage, but he would knock up a girl."

"No, Lester, that'll be a guy like you," Bobby said right back as he picked up his drink and took a sip.

"Then what? C'mon, you can tell us," Ortiz said as he patted him on the shoulder.

"It's nothing, really, I, uh…felt like it," Bobby said as he stared down into his drink and regretted buying the first round seeing how he was getting bugged about doing so. "So, since I paid for the first round, who's got the next one?"

"Ortiz," they all said in unison.

"Why is it always me?"

"Hey, I don't want to hear any bitching. I'm next," Brooks said, then pointed down the bar. "Then Lester, then back to Goren."

It wasn't lost on Bobby that Doc never had to pay for anyone, not even himself, ever, while they were there.

Three hours later, when it was five o'clock and Dempsey's was filling with regulars, they finally dragged themselves out. He lost count of how many drinks he had, but he knew he was close to his limit as he leaned against the window of the bar and lit a cigarette.

As the rush hour traffic slowly moved in front of him, he looked around the city block. Across 44th Street where he was standing was the 42nd Street/Port Authority bus terminal and subway station. To his immediate left was a subway entrance with steps leading down into the tunnel; it was his way of getting home after each session. He could drink and then step out of the bar and immediately go into the subway. No thought required.

He took a glance at his watch, the same watch Alex had gotten him for Christmas, and saw that it was only five-thirty. Alex was either on her way home or stuck at her desk. Looking down into the subway tunnel, he decided that he would cook dinner and have it ready for when Alex got home. He couldn't remember what he had at home to cook so he would stop off and grab some steaks and the sides he could figure out after he searched his cabinets and freezer. He was certain he had frozen vegetables and a sack of potatoes that'd suffice.

"Hey, man, can I bum a smoke?"

Bobby glanced over to the young college looking kid who had stopped in front of him. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said as he pulled out the pack and tapped two out and handed them to him. "Need a light?"

"Got it covered," the guy said as he pulled out a cheap dollar lighter.

He watched as the kid lit one of the cigarettes before putting on a set of headphones as he continued on his way, giving him a peace sign as he did so. Bobby put his cigarette out and then headed down into the tunnel with the intention of going home, cooking dinner, and salvaging his relationship.

However, as he pushed his way through the turnstile, he remembered that his car was at Lewis's shop. So, instead of taking the 'E' south bound to catch the 'L' which would have taken him home, he took it going east toward Long Island City.

* * *

><p><em><span>Lewis Body ShopApartment_

_Long Island City, Queens_

He felt something tap his knee; looking over, he took the offered beer bottle from Lewis. Stretching out in the chair, he took a sip as he stared out at the skyline. It wasn't horribly cold outside on the roof of the building, and Lewis had a fire pit going in front of them to help keep them warm.

The building under him was the garage where his car was parked and ready for him to drive home. Behind him were the sliding doors that led into Lewis's apartment, and in front of him was the roof tops of the buildings; however, seeing how nothing was more than three to four stories high, he could see 270 degrees around Long Island City. To the west he could see what he still called the 59th street bridge and beyond the bridge, Manhattan. To the northeast was LaGuardia airport and in the night sky he could make out the coming and going of planes.

"Are you going to crash here tonight?"

Bobby shook his head as he continued to take in the sights around him.

"Then do me a favor and don't drive home. You can take the subway and in the morning come get your car. I'll even give you the spare key to the garage so you can get in instead of waking me up at four in the morning."

"Don't worry about it; I'll come get it in the afternoon."

"Even better."

He heard the sliding door open and turned his head to see Lewis's new wife, Vivian, standing there. Next to her was a woman he'd never seen before; must be a friend of Vivian's.

"I invited Stacy over since Bobby's here."

"Okay," Lewis said, sounding confused as to why she was letting him know.

"I'm going to be in the kitchen if you need me."

"I'll text you if I need you to bring us more beer."

Bobby could hear the teasing in Lewis's voice but Vivian didn't think he was joking as she stared her husband.

"Don't you even dare."

Bobby started laughing at the exchange and caught Stacy's eyes; she was also laughing at the two of them. And ,wow, did she have a nice smile and deep blue eyes. They contrasted well with her dark hair. She noticed him looking at her and immediately blushed as she looked away and then they were both gone, back inside the apartment.

Turning to Lewis, he saw him looking at him. "What?"

"Are you for real? You were checking Stacy out. Do I have to remind you that you have a girlfriend?"

"There's no harm in looking…We all look, doesn't mean anything. I've caught Alex checking out other guys while we've been together."

"Really?"

Bobby couldn't exactly remember, but he was certain there had been times. There was that one guy…uh, at the, uh…shit. He really didn't remember. "I think."

"You think?" Lewis rolled his eyes. "All I'm asking is for you not to do it, okay."

"Do what?" he asked as he looked over at his friend. Bobby wanted to know if Lewis honestly thought he would do something like that.

"Stray."

"When have I-" Lewis gave him a look and he smiled a little. He forgot that Lewis knew just about everything about him. "I admit I've seen two women at once before, but I've never outright cheated."

"Then you have a pretty messed up definition of cheating. I can get you a bigger shovel if you want to keep digging."

Chuckling, he raised his hands and turned all the way around in the chair and stretched back out. "Besides, I love Alex too much," he said with such conviction he felt it radiate in his heart and mind.

"That's good," Lewis said before he asked, "Have you told her that yet?"

"Christ, Lewis, you're just as bad as talking to a woman," Bobby groaned as he downed his beer and got up.

Lewis watched him pace around the roof and frowned at him. "It'll be two years next month. Two years, and you still can't tell her that you love her. You've got problems, man. Do you still think she's going to leave you?"

Bobby stopped pacing as he sat back down in the chair. Rubbing at his numb face from the cold air, he said, "I know she is."

Lewis didn't say anything thing to that but he heard him get up and go back inside. A few minutes later, he was back and he felt another tap on his leg. Without looking, he took the bottle but didn't go to drink it just yet.

"Nothing's right anymore. It's all…I don't know how to explain it, but it's all wrong and fucked up and…and, I don't know what to do. It's not good…Nothing feels good, and I don't know how to get to back to the way it was, to-to the good."

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"We…" he sighed as he admitted to his friend, "we haven't really talked in a month. Last night was the first time…And, before, when we did try to talk about anything, all we did was argue. Same shit over and over again."

"Like a bad cycle."

"Right."

"Then break it."

Bobby stared over at Lewis and asked, "Okay, how?"

Lewis was quiet for a long moment, and then he said, "I don't know. What'll make you finally happy?"

"I don't know, Lewis. I know what I _don't_ need to be happy, and that's a wife, or kids, or a big fucking house. All I want is…is a good relationship and-and a home, you know? Somewhere that I actually feel safe, and secure…Where I feel, _protected_."

"A place that's the exact opposite of the home you grew up in."

Bobby nodded without looking over at Lewis. "Exactly, and right now, the home I'm living in doesn't feel anywhere close to that. It's all my fault, I know, but I can't stop…I can't help myself." _"What plagues you, Bobby?"_ At hearing that in his head, he shook it as he said, "Anyway," he said as he untwisted the cap on the beer bottle and took a drink.

Taking a deep breath, he caught a whiff of something he shouldn't have been smelling on his best friend's roof. Opening his eyes, he looked over at Lewis who was taking a long drag off a smoke that wasn't a cigarette. "I thought you quit."

Lewis blew out the smoke as he leaned back in the chair. "I did." Then he timidly asked, "You're not going to bust me are you?"

Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head before laughing. "If I wasn't so paranoid about losing my job, I'll join you."

"That's no way for a cop to think."

Peering over at Lewis, he said, "Never tell me what a cop should or shouldn't be thinking, unless you've worn the badge, understand?"

Lewis looked startled as he said, "Okay, sorry. I wasn't trying-"

Bobby downed the rest of the beer and got up, asking, "You want another beer?" He didn't wait to hear the answer as he opened the sliding door and went inside.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

Alex didn't know what to expect when she arrived home. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar, but a learned response to stepping foot in the apartment. She never knew what to expect from Bobby from one day to the next; that man had moods that swung like a pendulum. An easy, smooth transition back-and-forth. All she had to do was wait awhile for his mood to change, or for him to put an abrupt stop to his emotions all together until the next time.

Tonight was no exception. She hadn't seen his car parked out back so she didn't even know if he was home, but when she opened the back door she saw him. Bobby was brooding at the kitchen table as he sipped on a bottle of beer. He had changed clothes and was wearing a pair of loose fitting sweats with a white t-shirt and nothing on his feet. Dinner was warming on the stove and as if he was annoyed with her lateness, he took a glance at the clock. She would have felt bad if he would have called to let her know he was cooking. It wasn't like she was a damn mind reader.

"You usually don't work this late," he calmly said as he took a sip of the beer.

Alex wondered if he was back on Percocet or not by his calm demeanor, but then she took in his appearance more closely and realized that he was just drunk. "Deakins wants everything cleared off our plates so we can dedicate all our time to Gardner's disappearance. It's been 48 hours and we've got nothing and I think I've drained all my overtime for the rest of the year finishing up all the paperwork that had been piled up on my desk since January."

Bobby barely glanced over at her as he gave a curt nod. "I already ate so, uh…I'll make you a plate." He got up and started preparing her a plate of the steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables that he'd cooked.

She watched for a moment before taking off her coat and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. There was steam in the bathroom so she knew that he had taken a shower recently, which meant he hadn't been home long. It was ten o'clock at night and he had left work around ten that morning for SVU. With his session running from one to two, and it would have taken him at least an hour to cook and shower, that meant he had spent roughly seven hours away from home. Alex didn't have to do too many guesses to figure out where he'd spent his time.

By the time she returned, he was once again seated at the table and she felt like knocking the beer bottle right out of his hand. "Are you trying to get fired?" she asked as she spotted the glass of red wine next to her plate. As she sat down, she picked I up and took a sip.

Bobby picked up a roll and pulled it apart then took the butter knife and smeared butter over it. He offered that half to her and waited for her to take it. When she didn't, he shrugged and ate it before smearing butter on the other half and eating it too. "It's my last one," he said, gesturing to the beer bottle. "I won't buy anymore until I'm off work." He then picked it up and took a drink before grabbing another roll. "Your food's going to get cold."

Alex sat across from him and looked at the t-bone and felt her stomach ache from lack of food. "Is this our 'let's talk' dinner?"

Bobby glanced at her as he said while sitting the bottle down. "If you want it to be." She stared hard at him and pushed the plate away. "If you don't want to eat, you don't have to."

"It's not the food. You promised that we would talk and you're already drunk. Not to mention what the captain told you this morning about coming in again hung over. I swear, sometimes I have no idea what you're thinking."

"You're not the only one," he sighed heavily as he sat the bottle down and picked up another roll. As he buttered it, Bobby told her as he slurred some of his words, "Look, I cooked and whether we talk or not…" he offered half the roll to her and waited for her to take it. "That's up to you." When she still didn't reach for the roll, he sighed. "Alex, it's late, and I know you haven't eaten anything since lunch so…take the damn roll."

Alex wanted to hit him, but she was hungry and he had promised that they would have dinner together and talk. Giving in for the moment, she took the roll and ate it as she picked up the steak knife. She cut a chuck off the t-bone and the moment it hit her tongue, she moaned. She never had a single complaint about the way Bobby cooked. He was better at it than she was even when he'd done it drunk out of his mind.

Looking up at him, she noticed that he kept watching her as she ate. His observation would have unnerved her if she wasn't used to his behavior. Bobby realized he was staring and quickly looked away, toward the table, as she reached over and picked up a roll. She ate it with the potatoes as the silence between them got thicker as the tension mounted. She knew this evening was going to end badly.

Bobby waited until the plate was cleared before taking it to the sink and cleaning it off. She felt a little better after eating, but she was nervous about talking with Bobby. She remembered that night in December when Bobby had showed up at her apartment in Rockaway. She remembered how distraught he had been after visiting his mother. The things he had told then had filled her heart. She still thought that she was the only woman, besides his mother, that Bobby had ever loved and given himself to, both the good and the bad. And as of lately, it had all been the bad.

It was exhausting. _He_ was exhausting.

At that moment Bobby turned, leaned on the counter, and asked gently, "So, do we talk now?"

She let out a breath as she as see took in the sight of him. He was too drunk and she was too tired to try and deal with him in his current state of mind. "I don't want to talk to you while you're drunk."

"Why, I can still listen to what you have to say," he told her as he walked slowly over to the chair next to hers. Bobby pulled it out until he could sit down facing her. "Tell me. I want to hear it. I think…I think I _need_ to hear it because I already know, okay. I know that-that it's all wrong and screwed up, so just tell me. I can handle it. Lay it all out, so I'll know what I'm-I'm up against. So I'll know what I have to do."

Alex took a few breaths as she leaned on the table; it reminded her of how she would approach a suspect. Deciding to lay it all out there like he asked, she eyed the table, unable to look him in the eyes in fear that she wouldn't be able to get it all out, as she said, "I'm tired of all this. I'm tired of spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. I'm tired of coming home and not knowing what to expect. If we're going to fight or if we're not going to speak at all. I can't keep walking on eggshells, fearing what's going to happen if I say the wrong thing. All we do is fight, make up, and resolve nothing. There's no progress; it's just the same cycle over and over and it has to stop."

Alex sighed and leaned back. She was done; there was nothing left for her to say to him and he had yet to say a word. Looking up into his deeply dark and unfocused eyes, she watched as Bobby slowly leaned back in the chair, hand over his mouth, as she let that settle between them. She could see his mind going, thinking back over the past two, three, months and everything they've been through.

"Living together wasn't progress?" Bobby genuinely asked in confusion; his hand quivered slightly against his mouth, and she saw the twitch in his upper lip, into this cheek. She recognized the tells and knew he was barely controlling his temper.

Alex felt the tight lump in her throat. Swallowing hard, she looked away as the tears threatened to break. "Don't kid yourself, Bobby, we both know why you asked me to move in. And months later you're still locking yourself in the study in an attempt to ignore the fact that this is no longer _your _apartment. Every night you check the locks and rooms because you don't feel safe, and it has nothing to do with what's going on outside."

"I can stop."

"Maybe, if you actually made the effort to change, but you won't," she quietly told him, her voice breaking as the tears finally streamed down.

Bobby closed his eyes as he took deep breaths. She could see his chest shake with each breath. Clearing his throat, he softly told her, "Please, don't…If-if you think, if living apart again is what's best…we can do that, but, uh…but, I don't want…God, Alex," he said as he leaned over his knees and then dropped his head into his hands.

His back started to shake and she immediately reached out and rubbed over his back, his shoulders and along his neck. His whole body was so tense and tight; it felt the same as hers. She was afraid to speak, knowing that if she did he wouldn't.

After a long moment of listening to silence and each other breathing, Bobby told her very quietly, and simply, "I love you, please don't leave me."

Her breath caught in her chest as those words hit her. She felt the tears that were burning her eyes stream down her cheeks. Bobby scooted further on the chair as he lifted his head and reached across to her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her onto his lap. She immediately hugged him around his shoulders.

"Don't…" he spoke into her ear as his hand caressed over her cheek, wiping the tears away, "don't."

Alex wiped the tears as she steadied her pounding heart. Finally, after she felt she wasn't about to collapse, she asked, "Are you happy?"

Bobby looked away, down to the floor, as he closed his eyes. She didn't have to know his answer because that one gesture said it all. "I'm trying to be," he spoke that so softly that she barely heard him. "I know that-that, uh, that being with you makes it easier."

"I used to be happy," she said as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Bobby breathed out as he tentatively glanced at her. "I mean, _really_ happy. It's hard to be happy when I don't know what's going to happen from one moment to the next. I know you understand what that's like."

The look that crossed his face had her holding her breath. Bobby's face clouded over as he sat back in the chair but held her tightly to him as if he feared letting go. Closing his eyes, he kept his head tilted away from hers as he got himself under control. Alex had to let herself breathe and she watched him closely. It was that response, him pulling away, that she couldn't continue living with day after day.

"It's my anger, isn't it?" Bobby softly asked as he opened his eyes but kept them focused on the floor.

"That's part of it. Bobby, I know you've been losing your trust in me." He turned his eyes to her but still didn't say anything as he looked surprised and worried. "Yeah, I noticed. The biggest clue was when you thought my brother-in-law was coming onto me and I had to hit you to get you to back off. Drunk or not, that's not like you."

She saw him starting to slip as he rubbed a hand over his head. The contorted look of pain and anger that formed before he was able to get a grip on it spoke of the turmoil boiling within him. Alex waited him out, giving him time to gather his emotions and thoughts before continuing. He shifted under her, releasing her as he eased up. Alex didn't try to fight him as she moved back to her seat as he got up. He walked around the kitchen, deep in thought with his hand rubbing along the back of his neck.

Alex had learned enough from him to know, or at least thought she knew, why he had lost some of his trust, or faith, in her. "You couldn't go after me, accuse me, so you went after Terry. You didn't want me to know that you no longer trusted-"

Bobby's fist hit the table as he said, "Stop it! Okay, just stop." He turned toward the living room but stopped as he turned back, saying, "Fine, okay, you don't want to be with me, you want to leave, fine. Go, make yourself happy because it's obvious that no matter how hard I try, I'll never succeed. I'll never live up to your expectations…What's the point, I'll never be good enough."

Alex couldn't feel anything in her body as she sat stunned. She was shocked at not only his anger but what he had said. How could he possibly think that? Feeling her own anger starting to boil up, she took a breath and eyed the door. The last thing she wanted was get into a yelling match with him. She didn't want to fall right into his pity-party trap because this was what he did. He always made her feel like she had to defend herself against him. If anyone of them had the ability to break this cycle, it was her.

She couldn't say anything as she got up from the table and grabbed her coat and purse as she headed for the door. Alex went to undo the lock but as she reached for it Bobby's hand slammed against the door and held it shut. Jumping back at the sudden movement, she cursed under her breath before closing her eyes. "Don't do this."

He was standing right behind her, leaning against her back, and she could feel his heavy breathing against her cheek. "All I'm going to do is apologize," he whispered softly into her ear as his other arm wrapped around her waist. "Alex," he took a breath as he caressed along her waist, "everything's wrong and I'm sorry, I didn't…I didn't mean any of it."

Alex shook her head as she felt tears burn her eyes. What was he doing to her? What was she _letting _him do to her? She felt him pull her close into his body as his lips touched her neck. The sensation made her eyes close despite her anger.

"Turn around," he said into her ear.

She let out a deep sigh and turned. Opening her eyes, she stared up at him as her anger and resolve crumbled. Why did she always give into him? "First you tell me to leave and now…" she could barely speak as her voice trembled along with her mouth.

Taking a deep breath, she looked away as she got her emotions under control. When she looked back up at him, and being that close, she could tell that the fight that had clouded his eyes was gone. Bobby blinked back and looked around, sorrow and regret written all over his face. Looking to the floor, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arm further around her body.

She could smell the beer on his breath as he said, "I told you that, that I love you and, and you still want to leave? I-I…I thought-…Forget I said anything. I didn't mean what I said," he quickly reassured her. "Wha-what I yelled out…I didn't mean…Wha'd you want me to say?" His eyes bore into hers as he asked, pleaded, "What, just tell me what to do…I'll do it. I'll do anything."

"Can you even hear yourself right now?"

"I know what I'm saying, and…I know what I'm asking," he interrupted as he looked down her body, taking her in. "I know what I'm wanting…"

She felt him against her; his warm body trembling with need as he slid a leg between hers. "Bobby-"

"Wha'd you want?" he asked again with purpose. "You want it like you did last night?"

A moment of panic and uncertainty filled her as he captured her lips in his. The kiss was hard and desperate. The panic he was feeling, and the fear of her leaving, resonated in that kiss. He didn't want her to leave because he was scared to death of what would happen if she did.

Alex knew that about him because it was the same for her. She was scared of what would happen to them if she actually did leave. She knew that something had to give, but getting to that point was terrifying to think about, to consider. Not having Bobby in her life, even as a friend, was unacceptable. She didn't know how to deal with that. She had tried when they had broken up before and it was the most loneliest and depressed she'd felt since Joe died.

She didn't want to feel that way ever again. So, instead of kicking his ass, or kneeing him in his groin, which she should have done, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulling him down into her body, she tried to feel every part of him as their tongues danced in a twisted battle for control. She clung to him in fear of the moment that she would have to let him go.

Bobby's desperation didn't stop with a kiss as he gripped her around her thighs, lifting her until she was pressed against the door. She wrapped her legs around him and felt him grind hard against her, exciting a moan from her as she felt how hard her was. In her mind she knew that they were repeating the cycle all over again. That their fight had lead to this and that this would lead to everything seeming to be okay until the next time.

It brought tears to her eyes as he pulled her off the door and carried her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and then down the hall to the bedroom. She clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears as Bobby shed her of her jeans. Before she could breathe, he was in her, driving her across the bed as they lost themselves in the act of passionate, nearly crazed-driven sex.

There weren't many times when Bobby came before she did, but tonight he did. She wasn't too surprised that he couldn't hold out too long; he'd always had a faster trigger when he was drinking. She wasn't far behind, feeling her release quake silently through her as he jerked one last time into her before pulling out. They laid side-by-side, breathing heavily, and remaining as quiet as they had been through the whole thing.

Alex tried to figure out what she was feeling as she steadied her pounding heart and held the tears at bay. Bobby got up without a word and left the room, leaving her in coldness as she looked around for something to wear; with not seeing anything out and immediate, she went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of clean bra, panties, and a pair of pajama bottoms. She heard the sink running and then a few seconds later Bobby was back in the room wearing only his boxers.

They had both been fully clothed, with her being the only one without any pants on when they had had sex. After pulling off the blouse she'd worn to work, she took a tank-top out of the top drawer and carried her clothes with her into the bathroom.

She stayed in the shower longer than usual, savoring the warm water and time to herself before finally stepping out. She wasn't surprised that Bobby was already deep in sleep when she returned to the bedroom.

TBC…


	3. Friday, February 11th, 2005

A/N: I love the reviews, thank you and keep them coming.

Okay, I have no idea where in Greenpoint Bobby lives. I watched the Season 8 episode 'Faithfully', and so I know what his mail said his address was. However, the street address doesn't exist. So, I take it that it's fictional. And, through my nearly obsessive maps search around the neighborhoods of Greenpoint, I really liked the area I placed his fictional home.

I also found the diner that was used in 'Purgatory' where Alex confronts Bobby about not returning her calls! It's on the corner of N. 3rd and Wythe Avenue in Williamsburg, right along the street where I have him walking home, so it all fits, lol!

Disclaimer: To get this out of the way: I don't own of the places or bands or songs I've mentioned in this chapter, or any other chapter I've ever written.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Williamsburg Bridge<span>_

_Franklin D. Roosevelt East River Drive_

_Lower East Side, Manhattan_

The swirling blues, reds, and whites of the emergency vehicles lit up the underpass where the Williamsburg bridge entered the lower east side of Manhattan, making the northbound lane of the FDR impassable.

Alex cursed beside him as she fought for space which didn't exist before saying, "I'm going to have to park in the lot across the street and use the walkway to get over.

For some odd reason, the space between the river and the FDR had been constructed into a park, well, two parks, and the only way to enter it without driving miles down to the access road, was by use of walkways. One of the walkways went over the FDR next to the bridge.

Bobby looked up and down the street before giving a nod. "Okay, uh…I'll get out here."

"In the middle of the street?"

He glanced back at her as he opened the door. "It's not like anyone's coming. The whole streets blocked off."

Getting out, he shut the door and maneuvered through the emergency vehicles which consisted of fire trucks, about four patrol vehicles, a CSU van, an ambulance, and several department issue cruisers and SUV's. Stretching the entire length of the park was an iron fence that came up to the middle of his chest. He looked south and then north and sighed in the cold air as he took of his thick coat and slug it over the fence. Gripping the top of the cold iron, he stepped up onto the concrete barriers at the base of the fence and hoisted himself up and jumped over.

The officer who spotted him casually said, "There is a walkway." The female cop walked over to him and asked, "And you are?"

Bobby glanced at the woman as he grabbed his coat off the fence. As he pulled it on and zipped it up, he took his shield out of his pocket and showed it to the cop. "I'm with Major Case."

"Major Case, huh. Sign here," she said as she handed him the clipboard she'd been holding in her hand.

It was an access sheet for the crime scene to keep track of who all entered, and to keep unauthorized personnel out. After Bobby gave his name, badge number, and information, he headed toward all the commotion.

Through the swirling lights and mass of fire fighters and uniformed officers, he spotted what had brought them out there at one in the morning. Directly under the bridge and in-between the pillar and the river, where the park had been split in two because of the bridge in its way, sat the burnt out 2004 BMW.

Approaching the vehicle, he searched over the area and saw going in through the opening of the metal chain-linked fence that blocked off the park from the pillar, tire tracks. Also under the underpass were crates, several construction vehicles that had been left there overnight while the workers went home, over turned barrels that the homeless would set fires in during cold nights like tonight, and a bunch of debris from the ongoing construction that had taken permanent resident in that part of the city. It seemed like every time he came into Manhattan there was a new city park where there shouldn't be one. He had to admit though, the trees were better to look at than the concrete.

He stood off to the side, near the front of the car, and watched as the crime scene techs snapped pictures and dug through the ashes for any kind of evidence they could find while the firefighters put their gear back in the truck.

The call had come in at twelve twenty-two exactly by a patrol cop who'd spotted the burning vehicle. Officer Dan Clark had run the tag number and when it popped that the BMW belonged to the missing ADA, everyone was called from the Commissioner on down. He'd been awoken by not the sound of the cell ringing, but Alex rolling around in the bed in a rush to get out of it. They had rushed to get dressed and get out to the scene as quickly as possible.

"What took you so long?"

At hearing Alex's voice, Bobby looked over and saw Alex carrying two cups of coffee and heading his way. Logan had just emerged from under the crime scene tape.

"You live right around the corner," Alex said to Logan as she looked over at him.

Logan smirked as he started walking along side her while pulling out his notepad. "I wasn't home."

"I hope she wasn't too upset with you being dragged out here for this."

"Is it even his car?" Logan asked as they both approached him.

"VIN numbers are a match," Alex said as she came to a stop in front of him and held out one of the tall cups of coffee. "It's definitely his car."

Nodding, he took the cup with a soft 'thanks' as he turned back to the CSU's. So far, the car was empty, no body, and the mystery was growing and the leads were running dangerously cold. Over forty-eight hours missing and their only hope at finding the ADA was burnt to a crisp. Of course, they were still getting possible sightings of Gardner from all over the United States, but the odds of any of the sightings being reliable were slim to none.

"I know him," Logan said as he gestured to Officer Clark. "Do you mind?"

Alex gestured for him to go right ahead and go talk to the patrolman while she stayed standing next to him, waiting. They didn't have to wait much longer.

"Got something!" one of the techs called out. "Looks like a wallet."

Bobby stepped up to the tech and watched as the guy carefully opened it with gloved hands to reveal a half burnt driver's license and credit cards. The ID was Alec Gardner's and from the looks of it, none of the credit cards were missing.

"We can rule out robbery as a motive."

"And the hope of one of his credit cards being used," he supplied as the tech dropped the wallet into an evidence bag.

Logan walked back over and shook his head. "So far, nobody saw nothing. This place is usually crawling with skateboarders, teens hanging out past curfew playing ball, bangers, the homeless, but tonight not a single soul."

"Or they saw and were scared off," Alex said before taking a big sip of the coffee. "Still no body?"

"Nada," Logan said with a shake of his head. "They're getting Harbor Patrol out here to search the river line, but I don't know. I don't know why they would toss a body just to torch the car. Why not torch the body too?"

"Unless there is no body." When both Logan and Alex turned to look at him, he explained. "Nothing in the car except a wallet…like, it was tossed in as an after thought?"

"You're thinking this was all staged? By who?"

With a shrug, Bobby answered, "Gardner."

Logan was quiet for a moment while Alex just looked up at him with that look. The one that told him that she hoped he was wrong, but was probably right.

"Maybe," Logan finally said. "But I'm going to hold off on that theory. It just doesn't make sense. Why, now, would he fake his own death and take off? He was getting married, ready to go to court on a big case that could've made him the next DA."

"We have to talk to the fiancée again."

"_We_?" Logan asked as he looked over at him. "You're not working this part of the investigation."

Bobby eyed Logan as he said, "The investigation has changed. Something else is going on here, and I can talk to whoever I want."

Logan took a step toward him and he felt himself tense up as he turned to face him. Before he could say anything, Alex was between them and surprisingly enough holding him back.

"Hey! Calm it down, the both of you!"

Bobby stared hard over at Logan as he stared right back. He didn't know why the sudden hostility by Logan, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let the man intimidate him.

"This isn't the time nor the place to have a pissing contest." Alex was pushing him back a little and he finally snapped out of it as he went to defend himself.

"He started it."

Alex rolled her eyes, saying, "Real mature, Goren. There's nothing else to do here anyway. Let's leave the techs to do their jobs."

"Go? Go where?"

"Home," she said as she tugged on his overcoat. "We can talk to Natalie Vandenberg in the morning, after we get some more sleep. Logan." Alex turned to call out to him.

"I got it. Home, sleep, and then we'll talk to the fiancée in the morning," Logan grumbled as he ducked under the crime scene tape.

Bobby watched as Logan walked away as Alex turned back to him. "You were protecting him…from me."

Alex stared up at him and then shook her head. "You were about to hit him."

"No, I wasn't," he snapped and immediately caught himself. Closing his eyes, he took a breath and went to rub his face with his hand when he realized he'd been clenching it.

"Yeah, ok, you weren't," she sarcastically snapped back as she went to walk around him.

Bobby felt his jaw twitch as he flexed his left hand a few times, feeling the released of pressure. Looking around, he saw several cops glancing his way and sighed. Turning around, he followed Alex back to where she had parked her car across the street in the parking lot. Once he was in and the door shut, he rubbed at his eyes and leaned back in the seat.

Alex pulled out of the lot and got right onto the bridge that would take them home. Bobby stared out over the East River as they drove over it and entered Williamsburg. It wouldn't be long, only a few blocks, before they were in his neighborhood.

He was still seething, feeling the burning in his gut from pain and anger. His frustration with the case, with Logan, and everything else filled his head. Without warning, his fist collided with the dashboard so hard it made a dent.

"Shit," Alex exclaimed as she slammed on the brakes and turned to face him.

He was breathing hard with his eyes clenched shut while his hand throbbed in his lap. The cup of coffee that he had held in his right hand had splashed out and was burning his leg but he barely felt it.

"Bobby?"

Shaking his head, he tried to get his breathing and anger under control but couldn't. He opened his eyes and stared down at his throbbing hand, whispering mostly to himself, "This isn't right."

"Are you okay?"

Taking a deep breath, he answered, "No." He had to swallow hard to finished talking, "I'm not okay." Looking over at Alex, he felt the sting in his eyes as he felt the absolute truth in that statement. "Pull over."

"I already did," she said as she unbuckled her belt when he reached for the door handle. "Bobby."

He was out of the car and pacing as he gripped his left hand in his right and massaged over the soreness that would surely be bruised in the morning. "I didn't mean to…I don't know what-" he stopped talking as he continued to pace up and down the sidewalk.

"Why don't you calm down, okay? Sit down or something before you-"

"I don't need to calm down!" he suddenly yelled as he turned to face her. The pain and fear he saw flash in her eyes was enough to bring him back down. Steadying his voice, he calmly said, "I need to figure out what's wrong and fix it. I need to-to…to understand this." He didn't know what to do, or why he had hit the dashboard or why he had yelled or any of it. He felt so out of control and lost it was hurting his head. "I can't…I can't, take it anymore. What do I do? I don't know what to do, or why…"

He felt his shoulders start to quiver as he leaned against the building and buried his pounding head in his hands. Her arms were around him and that was when he felt the wetness on his cheeks and his resolve broke. Wrapping his arms around her, he felt himself start to crumble inside as his body shook.

"_I don't know why I do this? Why…I want to know…" _Bobby shivered as John Tagman's plea resonated in his pounding head. It had been nearly six months since that case, since Tagman had entered his life, and his words still haunted him.

His voice trembled as he buried his face into her neck. "I-I'm sorry, Alex. I am. I…I don't know what, uh, what's wrong with me. Y-you…you should l-leave. You have every right to go."

"Shhh, Bobby. It's okay," she whispered into his ear as he shook his head 'no'.

Nothing was okay. Everything was so wrong and screwed up. He was so angry all the time and he didn't know why. He didn't understand why everything hurt so damn much.

"I'm not leaving, okay. I'm not."

"You should," he told her again. He felt something solid and cold under him. Pulling away slightly, he looked around and noticed that they were sitting on the sidewalk, in the snow against the building. Alex was in his lap and he was shivering. Panic and embarrassment filled him as he looked around the neighborhood street and at the cars going by.

"Hey, hey, Bobby, look at me."

Focusing his blurry eyes on her, Alex took his face into her hands and kissed him. He was startled for a split second before he pulled her close and kissed her back. The kiss helped to settle his racing heart and mind as he eased into her and then leaned back, taking a deep breath of much needed air.

"I'm sorry," he said again and not knowing why.

Alex was silent for a moment before asking, "Feel better?"

Huffing out a laugh, he answered, "I don't think I'll ever feel better." At seeing the sad look on her face, he said, "I've been acting horrible, and…you were right. I'm…unpredictable. I, mean…fuck." He pulled his hand up and looked at the swelling. "Maybe you should stay with your sister or something until-"

"Bobby, listen to me, okay. Just shut up for once and listen."

He looked into her eyes and waited while breathing in deeply against the cold air.

Alex placed a hand on his chest as she said, "Yes, I meant what I said last night and you're becoming unpredictable, but…maybe I'm getting unpredictable too. You were right too, I should have left. I didn't and that's not right either. We're both not acting right. And it's not like this has been going on for months, it's only been two days."

"It felt longer," he lightly teased as he rubbed his right hand up and down her back. "Why didn't you leave?"

Alex shrugged and then shook her head. "I was scared to go. Despite all this, I still love you. Why didn't you let me walk out?"

Bobby felt the heat flush his face as he answered, "The same, I guess." He sat, staring down between them before asking, "So, what do we do now?"

"I wish I knew, but I don't. What I do know is that it's cold and I really want to get home."

Smiling a little, he nodded as he moved to get up. His legs felt heavy and numb as he stood with Alex's help. It wasn't long before they were back in the car and riding in silence the few blocks home.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

Alex immediately went over to the coffee machine while he headed toward the bathroom. He downed two aspirin with handfuls of water before examining his left hand. It was red and swollen but not lacerations. Moving his fingers, he grimaced at the pain that shot through his hand and arm.

"Anything broken?" she asked as she walked in.

He shook his head as he held felt her hands rubbing along his back. Sighing, he closed his eyes as he felt the tension leave his body. Turning around, he pulled her to him and held her tightly to his chest as he realized how close he'd been, and still was, to losing her. She needed him and he was failing her in so many ways, and knowing that was killing him.

"You have to talk to me," she said into his chest. "It's the only way for this to work. You can't keep shutting me out."

All he could do was give a nod as he clung to her and silently willed her to stay. Bobby knew that he'd been silent way too long and that it was time to start talking no matter how much it hurt him to do so. Reluctantly, he eased his hold on her and together they walked down the hall and across the living room and into the kitchen.

He sat down while she poured them both a cup of coffee while it was still brewing. Taking the cup from her, he didn't bother adding cream to it before drinking. Alex did the same, no sugar, before taking a sip. With only a few hours of sleep between them, it felt like a long night with an even longer day ahead of them.

Running his hand through his hair, Bobby leaned on the table and cleared his throat. "You know how I told you the other day that, uh…that the therapy didn't work." When he saw her nod, he continued, "Well…it's that, the uh, the Anger Management classes, you know…I basically showed up and just sat there, thinking a, ah, about everything and the more I thought the angrier I got. The classes they, uh, they try to teach you how to curb your anger before you go off, but…not how to identify triggers and…Okay, how can I stop my anger if I never know what sets me off?"

"Can't you feel it coming on?"

"See, that's just it. I don't feel it until it's too late and by then I can't stop it. It takes over and…I see red and snap. Like tonight, I was angry at Mike but I didn't even realize what I was doing. Then in the car, I felt…frustrated but not anger, not until my hand hit…That's as best as I can explain it."

Alex sat quietly after he was done and he ached to reach out to her but resisted. "Tell me about yesterday, Bobby? Why were you so angry?"

Sighing, he closed his eyes as he thought about what to tell her and whether or not to tell her everything. He had to trust her, he had to for them to survive this he had to get over the feeling of hurt and distrust. The thing was, he had no idea why he was feeling so much resentment toward her. It didn't make any sense. He took a drink of the coffee before saying, "I, uh…I think that…" he shook his head as he felt himself freeze up.

He couldn't tell her. He wanted to but he couldn't.

"Bobby, please."

"I can't," he said as he rubbed at his burning eyes. "I want to, but…" Opening his eyes, he nearly pleaded with her. "Don't _make_ me do this."

Alex sat back in the chair at that; she looked hurt and confused as she asked, "Do what? I'm not making-"

"This," he nearly yelled as he gestured back-and-forth between them.

"You're getting angry again. You realize that?"

Bobby took a breath as he looked away, down at the table as he felt the anger starting to boil up. He was doing it again; going off with no idea why or what it was that set him off.

"I think you should see someone."

"You mean like a shrink?"

"Is that such a bad thing? I saw Dr. Olivet for a while; she's good."

"I'm taking classes already," Bobby stressed as his hand clenched, causing a wave of pain to shot through his arm.

Alex stared at him and then looked at his clenched hand. "Classes that aren't helping. You need one-on-one, not group therapy where you can zone out for the entire session."

He had to close his eyes and take deep breaths to calm himself down before he lost it again. Earlier he'd been quicker at losing his temper because he'd been drunk and the alcohol had messed him up even more. Now, even with the little sleep and suffering from a hangover, he was able to hold it together a little longer.

With not wanting to cause her anymore hurt for one night, he downed the rest of the coffee and got up. He put the cup in the sink and left the kitchen without saying another word. Going into the bedroom, he undressed almost on autopilot and laid down.

A few minutes later, Alex walked in and did the same. She got under the covers and turned toward him as he laid on his back staring at the ceiling.

He blinked up at the dark ceiling as he said, "I know you said you love me, but I still don't understand why you're staying."

Alex didn't speak for a long moment, and then he felt her hand on his chest. "Because I'm committed to you. For better or worse…"

"We're not married, and even if we were, you should still go stay with your sister."

Alex was quiet but her hand kept caressing over his chest. He wished he could have felt the comfort that it used to bring him, but for some reason, he didn't. "If I go, who will be here for you?" When he didn't respond, she said, "How you're behaving right now, it isn't you, Bobby. I know that you're suffering, you're struggling to deal with everything you've been through, and I also know that once you're healed…I'll have you back. Like I said, it's only been a few days."

It took him a long time to work that through his troubled head. When all he was left with was utter confusion and the fear that she was lying to him, he asked, "What if I can't heal? What then? You were ready to leave me three days ago."

"Everyone heals, it just takes time. As for three days ago…well, that was three days ago. Tomorrow is always a new day."

As he continued to stare up at the ceiling, he felt in his gut that tomorrow for him would never come. That every day was going to be exactly the same as it had been yesterday.

The room darkened as his eyes slowly slid shut and the moment he was felt his body start to grow light, he jerked awake in a panic. Gasping for air, he shook in realization of what he'd been afraid of.

He was afraid to go to sleep because he didn't think he would wake back up.

* * *

><p><em><span>Natalie Vandenberg's Apartment<span>_

_Upper West Side, Manhattan_

The apartment was an open floor plan and very white. There was a few decorative paintings hanging on the walls to give color, the furniture was leather and black, the dining table had a glass top but the stand and chairs were also black. A flat screen TV hung on the wall opposite the furniture and under it was an Ipod dock and speakers. The kitchen was all stainless steel with neutral colors. It was very sterile and when he looked in the cabinets realized very organized as well. Everything in its place and a place for everything.

He opened the refrigerator and noticed that it was nearly empty. A jug of milk, water bottles, cartoon of eggs, block of cheese, hazelnut coffee creamer, and a box of baking soda were the only items. Shutting the door, he straightened and glanced around for any personal pictures or photos. There was two frames hanging on the wall in the hallway, but other than that there were none out on display.

Natalie Vandenberg had been on her cell phone when they arrived and had excused herself to the bedroom. She was returning from the room as he stepped into the hallway to look over the pictures in the frames.

"There's none of you and Mr. Gardner."

Natalie smiled slightly as she told him, "Alec hated having his picture taken. He thought it was too staged. So I had to try and get him in candid moments."

Looking down at her, he asked, "Did you? Get any of him, I mean?"

"Only on my cell. The moment he saw me pull out my Nikon, he always seemed to disappear." Natalie spoke that very softly as she looked over the photos on the wall. "I took all of these."

"They're very good. Are you a professional photographer?"

"No, it's more of a hobby. I've thought of making a book but I don't know if anyone would be interested in buying it."

Bobby gave a nod before saying, "I would."

She gave him a smile before suddenly realizing that there were other people in the apartment. "Oh! Where are my manners? Please, you can all sit if you want. Would anyone like any coffee or water?"

"No thanks, ma'am," Logan said as he sat on the edge of the couch.

Alex stayed standing while she told her, "A water would be great, thanks. And we're sorry for the early hour."

"It's not that early, and I haven't been sleeping much lately anyway. Detective, how about you?"

Bobby looked away from the black-and-white photo he'd been studying of a couple, a black man and white woman, standing outside what looked like an office building exchanging conversation and a smoke, as he said, "Uh, coffee?"

Natalie smiled as she said, "Great. I'll have it coming right up."

As he looked back over the photos on the wall, he realized that none of the people in them were related to Natalie. They were all strangers she'd taken shots of around the city.

Smelling the coffee brewing, he left the hallway and stepped in the open room and saw Natalie handing Alex a water bottle from the refrigerator before going over to the coffee machine. She took down two cups and filled them with the coffee.

"Milk, cream, or sugar?" she asked as she took out the coffee creamer from the refrigerator.

"Black would be fine," he told her as he walked into the kitchen area and took the offered cup. "Thank you, Miss Vandenberg."

"You call me that and I'm looking over my shoulder for my mother. I'm younger than you are," she said as she stirred cream into her cup.

Bobby nearly blushed at that as he looked to the tile floor. "Yes, you are. I was just being polite."

"Natalie is fine," she said with a soft smile. "And there's no need to treat me with kid gloves either. Whatever you came here to tell me, just say it. I need to know what's going on. I need to know what's happened to Alec."

Bobby looked over at Alex and she gave him a smile and nod. "Uh, well…Last night we, uh, received a call about an abandon car. It had been set on fire."

"A BMW?" she asked as she leaned on the counter and took a sip of the coffee; her hands were slightly trembling and some of the coffee had splashed over the rim onto the floor. Natalie didn't seem to notice.

"It was his. The tag number, the VIN numbers all matched…but, the only thing that was found in the car was his wallet, with ID and credit cards."

Natalie thought about that she stared at the floor and then looked from him to Alex and Logan. "No body was found? Oh, thank God," she said in a sudden rush of relief. "So that means he's still alive. Doesn't it?"

Bobby noticed the trembling had gotten worse so he reached over and took the cup from her hands before she could drop it. Sitting the cup down on the counter, he took her hand and led her over to the chair next to the couch. He helped her to sit down before he motioned for Logan to move over.

Logan gave him a look but got up and went to stand by the balcony that overlooked Central Park.

Steadying the cup in his hands, he took a sip before setting it down on the black coffee table. "Can you tell me about Alec? What was he like?"

Natalie took a deep breath, fighting some tears as she smiled a little. "He's so wonderful. My parents were first uncertain about our relationship because he's older than I am by ten years, but when they met him and saw how much we loved each other…"

"It no longer mattered."

She gave a nod as she reached up to wipe at tears that had fallen. Bobby pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. "Thank you. You don't see many men anymore running around with these in their pockets," she said with a laugh. He just smiled. "Um, he's big on charities and so am I and that's how we met. We were both being awarded for out charity work with kids with disabilities and I hate to use the expression 'love at first sight' but, that's the way it was with us. We instantly clicked and got each other."

"But you chose to wait until marriage to live together?"

Natalie laughed a little at that. "I didn't want to give up my place and he didn't want to give up his. It was childish, but we're both so independent and have our own hobbies, it just made sense to wait. Then we were going to look for a place that was right for the both of us. Where we could have our own space, you know."

"His hobbies, what were they?"

"He used to like to do a lot of things. Fishing, sailing, golf, huh, anything sports related. We're both Jets and Mets fans, so I didn't mind. Most of the time we went to games together."

"You said he used to do a lot…did, uh, did anything happen to change that? An incident?"

She shook her head as she told him, "No, nothing like that. He just stopped. I think he hit a funk a few months ago. He canceled a lot of dates, a lot of outings with his buddies. I caught him taking afternoon naps instead of going out like usual."

Bobby sat silent as he debated on how to breach the next subject. He figured the best way to do it was to keep asking questions until she caught on, which wouldn't take long. Natalie was a smart woman. "These sudden changes in behavior, were there any other insistences where he acted unusual? How about increasing his use of alcohol, or changes in appetite?"

Natalie thought for a moment before answering, "Well, because he would cancel our dates, I would go over to his apartment to cook for him or bring take-out. He barely ate what I cooked." She laughed a little as she said, "I teased him that he didn't like my cooking. As for drinking, he always enjoyed wine. Sometimes he would finish off a bottle before I was even done cooking. I got on him about it, but he said it was just stress." She went quiet and he saw her mind turning before her hand shot up to her mouth as she stared over at him. "You're thinking he was depressed?"

He barely nodded as he said, "That's a possibility." Reaching out, he took her other hand in his as he, as delicately as he could, asked, "Where there ever times when, uh…when he would say things…um, things about, death…or, how life would be easier if he weren't around?"

Her hand trembled as her eyes slammed shut. "I should have…He would scare me sometimes, um, after fights. He used to say that he couldn't live with me, that he would kill himself if I ever left. I thought he was being his overly dramatic self. Then, lately, he would say things like, he just wished he were dead, that things would be better if he had never been born. I yelled at him for talking like that and he would apologize, saying things like he didn't mean it, that it was just the stress talking. Then he would get me to talk about the wedding and everything and our new life together…" her voice finally broke as black tears streaked down her cheeks from the mascara.

Bobby tore his eyes away from her as he looked up at Alex who frowned down at him. Clearly heart broken that he had been right. He couldn't see Logan's expression because he was staring out the sliding door at the park below, hands stuffed deep into his pants pockets.

After thanking her for her time, and giving her his card, Bobby followed both Logan and Alex out of the apartment. No one said anything the entire walk to the elevator, the ride down to the lobby, or once they got to the department issue SUV.

Finally, when everyone was huddled in the SUV and they were on their way back to 1PP, did Logan speak. "Until we find him, he's still a missing person and all this is circumstantial. He could still have been taken, or murdered."

Bobby looked at Logan through the rearview mirror. He was glad that Logan still had the fight in him to find out what happened to the missing ADA, because right then he had no fight left in him.

All he wanted to do was find the nearest bar and drown himself at the bottom of a bottle.

"What do you have planned for the day?"

Bobby realized that Alex was talking to him. Prying his eyes away from the window he'd been staring out of, he told her, "I'm going to go to Long Island."

"You're interviewing Patterson?" Logan asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

He caught Mike's eyes in the rearview mirror and was once again glad that Logan had no hand in this part of the investigation.

* * *

><p><em><span>Home of Guy &amp; Audrey Patterson<span>_

_8678 N. Chinook Circle_

_Manhasset Hills, Long Island_

The house was a modest one story on a street lined with family homes. It had a two car garage and what looked like rooms over the garage. The other part of the house was a one story but from the report he read, he knew that the basement had been restored to a family game room.

Along the small porch was an empty flower bed and bushes that had died during the winter cold. The yard was empty of the fallen leaves that would have littered it from the bare oak that overhung half of the property from the neighbors yard. Stepping up onto the porch, he rung the bell before opening the glass outer door before knocking on the front door.

Seconds later, he was greeted at the door by an older woman with a stern frown on her face. She eyed him suspiciously as she accused, "You another damn reporter?"

Bobby would have smiled at that if she didn't' look like she would slap him upside the head if he did. "Uh, no, ma'am," he said as he took out his shield. "I'm a cop."

That seemed to anger her more. "You need to leave him alone. He didn't do-"

"Mother!" came the scolding voice of a man. Guy Patterson appeared behind the old woman and gently gripped her shoulder. "Please, let the detective in."

The woman glared at him one last time before moving aside to let him into the house. Bobby stepped right into the living room and looked around at the other people in the room.

"I'm sorry about that, she's been overprotective since this whole thing started," Patterson explained to him with a sympathetic smile as he reached out to shake his hand. "I'm Guy, and the feisty woman you've already met is my mother, Debbie. That's my wife, Audrey," he said as he gestured to the woman sitting tense and upright on the couch.

Audrey got up and approached him, extending her hand. She didn't say anything and he really wasn't expecting her too.

He had apparently showed up during some kind of family discussion, or argument, and the tension he felt in the house reminded him of the tension he'd felt as a kid between his parents. Usually it was right before a big blowup or right after one. "I'm Detective Robert Goren, Major Case."

"This is about the ADA, right?" Patterson asked as he lead him further into the living room. "Have, a, uh, seat, if you like. Honey?"

Audrey turned to look at her husband and then shook her head. "Oh, sorry. Um, would you like something to drink, detective? There's coffee already brewed?"

"Or a beer?" Patterson offered as he headed into the kitchen himself.

"Uh, no, but thanks. I'm on duty," Bobby said even though he desperately wanted one.

Patterson pushed the swinging door open and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him alone with the two women. Audrey still looked tense and nervous as she tried not to look it. And his mother, Debbie, looked as protective as any mother who loved her child. She also looked like she wanted to cater to them.

He took the brief time he had before Patterson to return to look over the living room, the little oddities that decorated it and the family picture frames that adorned nearly every surface. This was a family home and it spoke volumes of the love that they all had for one another. Or at least that was how it appeared to look. Just like any other loving family with the pretense that everything was okay. That there were never any problems, never any arguments or disagreements, that all was happy and good.

Patterson appeared with a beer in one hand and a cup of something else for his wife. He handed her the cup as he gestured for him to sit. Bobby unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat down on the couch, placing his binder on the coffee table.

"Before you ask," Patterson said as he leaned forward on his knees so he could look directly into his eyes, "I had nothing to do with his disappearance. My family can verify that the morning of the indictment, I was here until about one. I left here and went straight to my lawyers office, and from there we went to the courthouse."

Bobby nodded as he flipped his binder open and wrote that down, along with everything he'd observed from the family so far. "I appreciate the straight-forwardness, Mr. Patterson. I, uh…I actually didn't think that you personally had anything to do with it."

Patterson looked taken back by that as he leaned back on the couch and took a sip of the beer. "Then who do you think…"

Bobby cut him off with a wave of his hand as he looked around the room at the two women, both of whom were eyeing him intently. "Uh, is it possible for us to talk alone?" he asked that to Patterson but kept his eyes on the women.

They both looked to Patterson as he said, "Sure. Audrey…honey, it'll be fine. Take mom back home."

"I'm not going anywhere," Debbie protested; the fight returning to her tiny body.

"It'll be okay," Patterson reassured her. "I doubt the detective is going to…bother me anymore than he already has."

Bobby heard the teasing tone in that and had to repress a smile.

Audrey took Debbie by the arm and lead her toward the kitchen. "Let's go for a walk, mom."

Once the two women were finally out of the room, Bobby turned to Patterson. "She must really love you."

"Maybe too much. Since this whole thing started, she's been here constantly. She's been guarding the house like a watch dog, even barking at the reporters."

Bobby chuckled a little as he said, "She's very protective of you, and her family. I get that." He looked over at Patterson as he asked, "Was she here that morning with you?"

Patterson nodded. "All the way up until I left. Then she and my wife met me at the courthouse."

He wrote that down as he said, "I told you that I didn't think it was you, but…with it being the prosecutor in your case who had gone missing the morning of, well, it makes me wonder if something was trying to protect you by, uh…doing something to him."

Patterson stared at him in surprise as he asked, stunned, "You think my mother…She's eighty!"

"You'll be surprised, Mr. Patterson, what people, family members do who think they have no other choice. Uh, especially when they love their family as much as your mother does."

The coach sighed as he gave a nod. "Yeah, I guess I can see your point. She is scary, isn't she?" he teased again.

This time Bobby did smile. "She reminds me of my mother. So, that morning, who was here that you can account for?"

"Everyone, uh, except my son. Zachary had spent the night at a friends house."

"I thought he was in his twenties?"

"He is," Patterson said as he downed the beer and sat it on the table. "He recently lost his job, his girlfriend of two years left him, and so he moved back home. After he moved out at eighteen, we turned his old room above the garage a guest house for when our family visits. He's staying there."

"And your daughter?"

"Elise was here. She's in her room-" he stopped talking as they heard someone coming down through the front door.

The door opened and in walked a young man with dark blond hair and blue eyes. Bobby would have wondered if he was in right house if he didn't look so much like his mother.

"Zach," Patterson said as the young man walked in and took off his coat. "This is Detective Goren."

Bobby watched as Zach smiled slightly at him but kept his focus on his father.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Your mom and grandma went for a walk, Elise is in her room. There's coffee made, and I think she's preparing dinner already. Why don't you go check on that for her?"

Zach gave him one last look before heading into the kitchen.

Patterson was rubbing at his head when he looked back over at him. Bobby gave the dad a minute to refocus as he returned his attention to his binder, writing his observations and thoughts down.

"I apologize, Detective. This is…"

"I know."

"I didn't do it." Patterson was staring at him when he looked up. "You probably think differently, and I understand. You're a cop, right, and the police already made up their minds. Same with the media…I was tried and convicted before I could even begin to defend myself. And now my families been thrown right into the middle of this whole…massacre of my reputation. My wife used to be a guidance counselor at the school. They fired her a week after the story broke, and then I was suspended, but eventually fired a week later. My kids are getting…Zach came home last month bloody and bruised from getting into a fight with a guy who used to be his best friend. My daughter, we had to take her out. My wife's been home schooling her. I don't know if she'll ever be able to go back."

Bobby let the man vent as he watched him closely, listened to his tone of voice, his affect, and he knew that the man was being honest with him. He felt himself sympathizing as his belief grew more and more strongly that what he was thinking was right. He had yet to tell everyone what he believed, hoping that this visit would solidify it for him, and so far, it was.

Zach came back out with two bottles in his hand and a plate filled with a sandwich and potato chips. He sat the bottle of beer on the table for his dad and handed him the plate. "Mom said you weren't eating," he softly whispered to his father before giving him another look before heading down the hallway.

Patterson looked slightly embarrassed for a moment before picking up a chip and popping it into his mouth. "He's also been overprotective."

"He seems like a good son." Bobby heard Zach coming back the hallway and right behind him was a young girl. The way she walked, her light, easy movements were the first thing he noticed before he was taken in by her open smile and twinkling blue eyes.

"Hi," she said to him with a loose wave before she started to run her hand through her long hair. "Hi daddy!"

Patterson smiled at his daughter as he told her, "Hi, honey. This is…" he looked over at him as he said in a friendly tone, "a police officer."

"I'm Bobby," he told the girl as she returned her innocent face back toward him.

Zach took her by the hand, saying, "I made you a plate too, but you gotta eat it at the table."

Elise gave him another wave before letting her brother guide her into the kitchen.

Once they were gone, Bobby asked, "She's autistic?"

Patterson just nodded as he picked up his sandwich to take a bite. "We've kept it from her as best we could," he explained after he swallowed the bite down with a sip of beer. "But the other kids…She didn't understand why they were saying what they were saying, she didn't understand a lot of it. When she came home crying and told me what the others kids said…" he took a deep breath as his eyes swelled with tears and anger. "Then I felt like…God, I was so angry. I called the school and yelled at the principle even though I knew it wasn't her fault. You can only do so much to protect your children, you know. Then the world has to come along and destroy them while you're unable to do a single damn thing about it."

It was getting harder for him to breathe as he gave a nod. Even though he didn't have any children of his own, he could understand where the dad was coming from. He could still hear the taunts and laughter from when he was a kid. The things that the other kids would say about his mother, and how angry it made him. All the fights he'd gotten into because of that anger and the need he felt to protect his mother, despite his own shame and anger toward her.

"Are you okay, detective?"

Bobby realized that he'd lost himself in thought again. Giving a nod, he said softly, "I was just thinking, uh…Can I see the basement? Would that be okay?"

Patterson sat the plate and bottle down as he got up. "Sure, follow me."

He followed him through the kitchen to a door off a short hallway that lead to the garage. Zach and Elise were both at the kitchen table, eating their lunch as he followed their father down into the basement where the family game room was.

"This is nice," he told Patterson as he looked around the room.

Patterson smiled a little with pride as he told him, "Me and Zach did it ourselves."

Bobby took in the big screen TV along the far wall and the couch and bean bags chair sitting in front of it. There was also a pool table, dart board, shelves full of games and a poker table in the corner. "You come down here often?"

"Not me, no. We have family movie night sometimes…" Patterson smiled as he told him. "Elise calls it 'going to the theater', so we make it like we are. We have popcorn and sodas, she dresses up likes she's going out," he lightly chuckled as he looked over the room. "Zach and I shoot pool together sometimes, but we made it mostly for them, the kids. While he was in high school, Zach would have parties down here with his friends. Same with Elise, her friends would have sleepovers."

It wasn't lost of him how he used the past-tense while saying that. Bobby saw the pained looked on Patterson's face as he turned to him.

"That's what I told the other detectives, but…of course they didn't believe me. I told them that anyone of Zach's friends could have brought that filth into my house and left it. He would let his friends stay here a lot, on weekends after a party. I caught a few of them trying to sneak alcohol into the parties. I kicked those kids out, but…I never checked their bags or backpacks for porn."

"Could it have been Zach's?"

Patterson looked a little defensive but then thought better of it as he sighted heavily. "I already asked, and he said it wasn't, but…It's not like I think my son's never…He's twenty-five years old."

"You don't have to explain anything to me," Bobby reassured him as he looked toward the shelf where the magazines were found.

"What'd you think about Caleb Cunningham?"

Patterson grew quiet as he stared at the floor. Bobby saw his hands clenching as he took a breath. "He ruined me and my family. Anything I have to say about that boy right now wouldn't be anything good."

Bobby had to give the man credit for not losing his temper even though he had every right to. "It was known that you drove him home after games, practices…"

Patterson nodded as he walked over to the couch and sat down. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he said, "In hindsight, that was the worst mistake of my life. Caleb moved to New York from Alabama at the beginning of the school year."

Bobby walked over to the bookcase and took in the various games and CD's, DVD's, and books and video games magazines that lined the shelves as Patterson talked to him.

"The kid didn't know anyone. He joined the team and made some friends-"

"Where any of them the four other guys who claimed sexual misconduct?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. Every one of them are Caleb's friends; his only friends. The guy wasn't very popular, he had a hard time making friends. I wouldn't say he had a strange personality, just not one we're used to up here I guess. He's a country kid, you know, and most of the kids at the high school don't like him solely for that reason. They teased him about being a farm boy, liking country music, and mocking his accent."

"So, he was being bullied?"

"I tried to stop it whenever I could, but I couldn't be everywhere. I had to break up a few fights in the locker room. One day, Caleb tells me that he wasn't comfortable walking home. He wasn't used to the city, taking subways, and said he was scared of being mugged. A few of the guys he would get into fights with also live in the same apartments as him. I could only imagine what he had to deal with at home, so I talked to his mother about driving him home after school. She said that it would be okay. I also informed the school."

Bobby turned away from the bookcase as he opened his binder and wrote everything down that Patterson had just told him. "He approached you about giving him rides?"

"That's right, unfortunately it was while we were alone together in my office."

"And why were you alone?"

Patterson didn't get offensive toward that question like he had thought he would; instead, he sighed and shook his head. "That day, I was going over plays, working out a game plan, and Caleb walked in and shut the door. He looked kind-of scared, and it was the same day I had to break up a fight out on the court between him and another student, Kyle Davis. I thought he wanted to talk to me about the fight. Because he was being bullied," he explained, "I offered him help whenever I could. I told him that if he ever wanted to talk, to come see me."

"That was nice of you."

Patterson's look turned to one of despair as he said, "Yeah, and look where it got me."

"Mr. Patterson, is there any reason why you think Caleb accused you of this?"

Patterson rubbed at his head as he stared across the room at the blank television. "The only issue we had were his grades. Because of the bullying, his grades were suffering. I told him to get tutoring, to stay after school with me if he needed and I would help him with his homework before driving him home. He would sometimes, but not all the time. I think he felt embarrassed or something about it so I never pushed. We got into it over the fact that if he failed his classes, he would be off the team."

"Got into it? You two fought?"

"Nothing like that. He yelled at me, claimed that I was supposed to be his friend. He kicked over the trash can and threw his jersey across the locker room."

"There were witnesses for that?" Bobby asked as he wrote that down.

"My assistant, Sergeant."

"Uh, Sergeant?"

Patterson looked over at him, still rubbing at his head as he told him, "That's his last name. It's what everyone calls him."

Bobby nodded as he clicked his mechanical pencil a few times before he could write again. "You said he called you his friend…Was, uh, was he being overly sensitive, or was that what you two called each other?"

"I never told him we were," Patterson shook his head, "but it wasn't like I didn't make him feel that way. I mean, I was the only one in that school besides those other four kids who gave him the time of day."

"And you said that you talked to his mother about giving him a ride. What about his father?"

Patterson shook his head, "He doesn't have one. I never asked him about it."

Bobby was getting a clearer understanding of the dynamtics of the people involved and the situation they were all in, and it was confirming his suspicions that nothing about this case was what it appeared to be.

"You have a look." Bobby glanced up at him with confusion as Patterson continued, "I wished the other detectives had that look, then maybe none of this would have happened."

Bobby didn't know what to say to that, but he knew he had all the information he needed for now. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Patterson. I'll be in touch."

Patterson got up to walk him out. He followed him back up the stairs and through the now empty kitchen. In the living room, the rest of his family, excluding Elise, were gathered around, quietly talking but once they entered they stopped.

Bobby headed to the front door as Patterson stopped next to his wife and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. Before he forgot, he flipped open his binder and took out his card. "If you think of anything, or have questions…Here's my card."

Patterson took it with a silent 'thanks' as he gave him a look of gratitude.

"Drive carefully, it started to rain," Audrey told him as he opened the door.

"Uh, yeah, thanks, take care," he said as he looked out at the cold rain coming down and sighed. The roads were going to be slick for the drive back to the city.

* * *

><p><em><span>Major Case Squad<span>_

"Logan," Alex nearly yelled across the desks to get his attention.

Logan looked up from his laptop and turned in the chair to face her.

"I found a list of Gardner's charity work, alumni associations, and guess what?"

Logan got up and came around to her desk as he asked, "I don't know but from the look on your face I know it's something good."

Alex beamed up at him as she told him, "He's a benefactor for St. Luke's Catholic High School, in Manhattan."

She saw him thinking and then the moment when it clicked. Logan looked at her, smirking, as he said, "The same school where Guy Patterson coached."

"Eames, Logan," Deakins said as he approached the desk. "I just got off the phone with the Governor. Please tell me because of this little pow-wow that you two found something?"

Alex turned to the captain as she explained to him what she had just told Logan.

Deakins smiled a little as he gave a nod. "Good work. Now, get a hold of…" he stopped talking as he leaned over her desk, as if catching himself, then he grimaced in pain as he reached up behind his left ear to his neck.

Alex thought maybe he was about to start yelling but then she noticed the confused and scared look on his face. Then she saw almost all the color drain from his face as the whole left side of his face went slack. "Captain?" If she didn't know better, she would have thought he was having a stroke. "Cap…Logan!"

She reached up and tried to steady Deakins, guiding him to the empty chair across from her. Logan immediately ran around the desk to help lower the captain into the chair as gently as possible.

Deakins leaned back, catching his breath, as he tried to speak. "…'ine."

"You're not fine, Captain. You can barely speak," Alex told him as Logan knelt beside her.

"What happened?" Logan asked as he took a hold of Deakins wrist, checking his pulse.

"I don't know," Alex told him as she watched his whole left side lose feeling. "We need to get him to the hospital."

Logan looked around at the gathering detectives and barked out, "Anyone call for a bus?"

"I'm on it!" Someone yelled out from behind her. It sounded like Richie.

"Are you having trouble breathing?"

Deakins shook his head but reached up to loosen his tie and undo the top button. "'An't f-eel 'y face."

"Facial paralysis is sign of a stroke, isn't it?"

"It's one of many signs, but he's not having any other symptoms," Alex told Logan as she looked around the squad room and everyone gathered.

"It could be Bell's palsy," Matthews told her as he stood over her and looked down at Deakins. "My uncle had it a few years ago."

Deakins glared up at Matthews and then tried to tell everyone, "Get back to work," but the way it came out, all vowels and 'k' sounds, made her tense.

There was a commotion out in the hallway as the EMT's turned the corner with a gurney and rushed toward them. When the EMT's pulled the gurney next to him, Deakins shook his head as he went to stand. "…'m wah-kin' out."

Logan appeared seconds later with the captain's coat and handed it to him. "Take it easy, Cap."

"We'll contact your wife for you, Captain," Alex told him as he shrugged on his coat.

Deakins sighed heavily but gave a nod before he followed the EMT's down the hall.

Alex turned to Logan as she her cell buzzed on her desk. Reaching over, she picked it up and saw who was calling. It was Bobby. "Bobby, hey" she breathed out when she answered.

He must've recognized the tension in her voice because he immediately asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's the Captain, he, we don't know for sure, but he might have suffered from a bout of Bell's palsy or something. He's on his way to the hospital to get checked out now."

Bobby was quiet on the other line and then she heard him breathe out a little. "Okay, uh…Well, if it is Bell's palsy then he'll be fine. It usually goes away on its own; it might take a few weeks or even a couple of months, but, uh, yeah, he'll be fine, Alex."

Taking in a few breaths of her own, she watched as Logan began pacing around before going into the break room for something. She felt like she needed something too, and it wasn't a soda. "Yeah, I know. It was just a little unnerving. If I hadn't seen my mother suffer her stroke, I would've thought the worst."

"So, he's on his way to the hospital? Do you know which one because I need to talk to him."

"I already told him you had a doctor's appointment. I said that you, uh…" Alex trailed off as she thought about what she had told the captain. "That you probably wouldn't be in for the rest of the day."

"Yeah," she heard him say, with a distant tone in his voice. "Thanks, for, uh…for covering for me. I forgot what with everything going on to tell him about it."

She nodded into the phone, saying, "I figured as much. Are you okay?"

He responded with his usual, "I'm fine. I gotta go, okay. I'll see you later, at home?"

"It'll actually be early. I'm not planning staying today past five. Do you want me to pick anything up?" When he didn't answer her, she asked, "Bobby? Are you-"

"I, uh…I gotta go. Okay."

She pulled the cell away and flipped it close a little hard after he had hung up on her. Even though she didn't agree with his need for the pain medication, she hoped that by seeing his doctor he would finally find out why he was in so much pain. And that something could be done about that anger of his.

* * *

><p><em><span>Office of Doctor Andre Costa, MD<span>_

_Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

His leg wouldn't stop bouncing as he sat in the chair staring at the tile floor. The anxiousness was racing through his veins like a drug, causing him to twist his hands so hard together they turned white. It had been seven minutes since his doctor left the room after checking him out, running all kinds of tests to see where his pain was coming from. Hopefully this time they would figure it out and be able to fix it. He couldn't stand the pain any longer; it was making him crazy.

The door opened and he looked up as Doctor Andre Costa, who had been his primary care physician for a little over seven years, walked in and then shut the door behind him. Costa sat in the chair opposite him and flipped through the clipboard full of his test results and x-rays and even the MRI, the guy went all out and he was very thankful he had the insurance to cover it.

Costa sat the clipboard down as he gave him a sympathetic smile. "Bobby," he started off as he sat forward in the chair, leaning on his knees to get closer. "I did every test I could. I checked your intestines, your colon, every organ in your body. I x-rayed and scanned everything from your feet up. Physically, besides arthritis in your knees, your hands, and the damage you're doing to yourself by smoking again, you're perfectly healthy."

Giving a shake of his head, he went to protest. "I'm-"

"I know, you're in pain. I've been hearing that for six weeks."

Snapping his head up, Bobby glared at him. "You think I'm lying?"

Costa sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't. I don't, Bobby," he said when he glared harder at him. "I know you're in pain. Serious pain, but it's not physical." He took a sheet of paper off the top of the clipboard and handed it to him. "Read that, out loud to me." When he didn't move to take it, he nearly shoved it into his chest. "Detective, all I'm asking is for you to keep an open mind about what could be going on with you. I'd appreciate it if you take this and read it, instead of running away like last time."

Bobby sighed heavily as he snatched the paper out of the doctors hand. If he hadn't respected the doctor, and if he hadn't known the man for close to seven years, he would have taken off again. However, he knew that tone and he knew that Costa would never make him do something unless it was absolutely necessary. It also helped that Costa's cousin was a long-time friend of his who he'd served with in the Army. Looking at the sheet, he glanced up at the doctor as he said, "Psychogenic pain?"

"Read it," Costa stressed again. "And I highlighted the good parts if you want to read just those."

Bobby shook his head as he leaned forward on his knees and read the information out loud. "Psychogenic pain, also known as psychalgia, is physical pain that is either caused, increased, or prolonged by mental, emotional, or behavior factors." Taking a deep breath, he glanced up at Costa and saw him nodding, encouraging him to continue. "Headache, back pain, or stomach pain are some of the most common types." He skimmed the rest and then skipped ahead to the next highlighted line. "Medicine refers also to psychogenic pain as a form of chronic pain. Causes may be linked to stress, unexpressed emotional conflicts, psychosocial problems, or various mental disorders." Looking up at the doctor, he said sternly, "I don't have a mental disorder."

"I didn't say you ever did. Keep reading."

Bobby looked back down the sheet and found his place. "Some specialists believe that psychogenic chronic pain exists as a protective distraction to keep dangerous repressed emotions such as anger or rage…unconscious." He reread that last sentence before handing the paper back to Costa.

"Keep it," Costa told him as he sat back in the chair and then cleared his throat. "The pain you are experiencing is real. It's just not caused by anything physical. Now, for the first month since the shooting, you were experiencing a lot of pain. Some physical, some not. The Percocet pretty much numbed all the physical, and along with it the emotional pain as well. I think that's why after you should have been taken off of it, you kept taking it, believing that the pain in your abdomen was still from the surgery. It wasn't. And now, with you being off the narcotic for three days, you're starting to experience everything that you were trying to numb. All that emotional and mental pain is starting to break loose."

"That's why I'm suddenly so angry all the time?"

"Yes, I believe so. When you try to repress that anger, the worse the abdominal pain gets. The more you try to repress anything, the worse it gets. After a while of repressing all that, it reaches a breaking point. You can no longer hold anything else in, and to relieve the physical pain that has built up in your gut because of it, you have to let some of that anger out. Then the cycle repeats itself. And it might not just be anger you're trying to repress, but the actual event, or memories of any of the traumatic events you've experienced in the past."

"Abuse always has a way of manifesting itself," Bobby muttered as he stared at the floor below his feet. He thought back to the times when he did get angry and if he could feel the physical pain during those times. The answer was no. When he got angry, the pain stopped. When he tried to keep it all in and control it, he felt like he was physically dying. _Shit_…It was all in his head, and in his heart and soul. "What, uh…What do you suggest?" he asked as he looked up at his doctor.

Costa studied him for a moment before telling him, "Therapy."

He cursed under his breath as he leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling.

"Listen, Bobby. You've been through hell, okay. What's going on with you is more common than you think. The only reason why I suggest therapy is because other factors are associated with this type of chronic pain you're dealing with. It could be a symptom of something more severe like PTSD, or depression, or hell, even Bipolar Disorder."

"I'm not Bipolar."

"How do you know? Have you ever been tested?"

Bobby shifted his eyes away from the ceiling to stare at Costa. Then, he answered, "No, but I don't suffer from hallucinations or-"

"Come on, Bobby. You know that hallucinations are only associated with Type I. There's Type II and the hardest to detect, Cyclothymia. And, I'm not saying you are, but I am saying that other factors are at play here. You could be suffering from depression, or anything else, and that has to be found out. Maybe you do need medication, but not Percocet. You might need a mood stabilizer, or an antidepressant, or even anti-anxiety medication since you already suffer from anxiety. I have a friend who's a psychiatrist. You go to him, he assesses you and he'll decide what's best." He pulled out a card from his wallet and handed it to him.

Bobby stared at the doctor for a long moment before taking it. "You see this guy?"

Costa smiled a little before telling him, "I do have Bipolar, Type II. I was thirty-six when I found out."

"That's kind-of late, isn't it?"

Shrugging, he told him, "Millions of people go their whole lives without ever knowing that something's mentally wrong with them. And most are men because we refuse to seek treatment until something breaks, or we break. I didn't know anything was wrong with me for a long time, and since I never had hallucinations or delusions and I was highly functional and could work…I just thought I got really fucking hyper and talked too much. Then when I was depressed, I thought that it was because I was tired of the tedious nature of my job, and the hours and lack of sleep. Plus, I was always too afraid to find out if it was anything other than a personality trait."

Bobby nodded as he flipped the card over in his hand. "I get that. So, what made you get help?"

Costa's smile faltered when he told him, "When I was standing on the railing of the Brooklyn Bridge, coming to terms with God before I jumped. Luckily for me, my fear of heights overruled my desire to die." Leaning forward, he placed his hand on his shoulder and told him, "Please, Bobby, whatever you do, do not wait until it's too late to find out what's wrong. Unlike me, you might not give a shit how high you're up."

As he left the doctor's office, he stuffed the card in his pocket, pulled on his overcoat, and thought about how he'd been feeling for the past three days since being off the Percocet.

All his reckless impulses and rage. The excessive drinking and letting himself get addicted to pain medication. The zoning out during the counseling sessions, his irrational thinking, the thoughts of dying and not waking up, obsessing over his shooting and his past abduction as he relived the events over and over in his head every time he closed his eyes. Then the lack of concentration that lead to letting Nicole Wallace get the upper hand on him. And to top it all off, the feeling that tomorrow didn't matter. That his job didn't matter and thinking about quitting. His total and complete lack of caring about anything or anyone, not even himself.

Pulling out a cigarette, he thought about all the lying. He did tell Alex that he had quit smoking when he hadn't, but again, he didn't care.

The fear of knowing that something seriously was wrong with him made him that much more reluctant to seek treatment. It was completely irrational, but after having to deal with his mother and her therapist and all the medications. With self-educating himself on everything psychological, he figured he was immune to anything affecting his own psyche.

And that was just stupid.

Bobby stuck the smoke in his mouth and lit it as he kept walking, lost in thought. Once he was done with one cigarette, he replaced it with another and kept moving down along Kent Avenue, a block from the East River.

"…_standing on the railing of the Brooklyn Bridge, coming to terms with God before I jumped."_

He stopped walking and stared up at the overpass that roared with cars above him. It was the Williamsburg Bridge, but on the Brooklyn side of the East River. They had Harbor Security out in the East River along the Manhattan side searching, but he didn't think they had searched along the piers along the river where he was standing. Unlike on the Manhattan side, there was no park he had to walk through to get to the river. He walked along the old brick road, alongside the old Domino Sugar Factory, of South 5th Street and right up to the short rail that separated the street from the waterfront.

To the south was Wallabout Bay and the Brooklyn Navy Yard. He looked the other way, to the north, and saw piers. Further up the river he knew lay the East River Park and Bushwick Intel Park, along with the inlet that went up to Franklin Street in Greenpoint. He only lived a few blocks from there between Franklin and Manhattan Avenue. During the time of night when the BMW was parked across the river and set on fire, which would have been anywhere between eleven-thirty to midnight, the current would have been bringing the tide in, before rushing back out around three or four…

Bobby sighed as he blew out a breath of smoke and air as he thought about current movements and how it could have taken a body in the river, probably as far as the 59th street bridge. The current could have tossed a body around the shoreline and back down, past Governor's Island and into Staten Island, or maybe more east toward Ellis Island and New Jersey, or even out into the Atlantic. Or, it could have gotten hung up somewhere along the piers or maybe in the river that separated Brooklyn from Queens to the north.

There were too many possibilities, but if they could narrow the search by finding out the current direction and wind speed around that time of night, it could help. That was to say that the ADA committed suicide by jumping in the river. If not, it would just be a huge waste of time. It would be worth it however if they found something.

Checking his watch, he saw it was almost five. Alex told him that she was taking off at closing time, which meant five, but Logan might still be there. Pulling out his cell, he made the call and got Logan's voicemail. He left a message, telling him about his idea of expanding the search of the river before pocketing the phone.

He took one last drag off the smoke before flicking it into the water. He had parked his car at home and walked to the doctor's office seeing how it wasn't too far. Walking back down the brick road, he took a left off South 5th, onto concrete and asphalt, and headed up Kent Avenue. He turned west on Grand, intending to take it to Wythe Avenue.

It wasn't that long of a walk, a little more than a mile and a half. A good twenty to twenty-five minutes and he would be home. He reached Wythe but instead of heading back north, he kept on going as he lost himself once again in his head. It wasn't until he was almost at the Brooklyn Queens Expressway did he realize that he'd been walking, lost in thought, all the way down Grand Street. Checking his watch, he saw it was after five and he was a little tired of walking. It still wasn't too far of a walk home, and he could cut through McCarren Park, but he wanted to rest first. And he felt like having a drink.

He opened the door to the bar on the corner and was greeted by the voice of Ann Wilson from the band Heart, singing the song "_Magic Man"._ A few of the customers who were decked out in tattoos and leather glanced his way, giving him a once over before ignoring him, as he slid on the barstool and ordered a beer. It was now five o'clock, happy hour, and he beer was only two bucks. By the time the cold bottle appeared in front of him, his cell buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID and saw that it was Logan calling him back.

"Goren."

"What's this about tides and wind speed?"

Bobby smirked a little as he explained what his was thinking, and once he started in on the moon's orbit and current patterns, high tide and low tide, he had lost Logan. "You don't understand any of this, do you?"

"Hey, I'm tracking, at least the gist of it. I'll give Harbor Patrol a call and see what I can do. They might've called off the search by now anyway. There's no evidence to suggest that anyone's in that water…Well, at least our missing guy anyway. Oh, hey, Eames is still here. She just held up a note saying that she said she was supposed to have left by now. She's gathering up her stuff now…You should be home by now, huh?"

"Not, uh…not exactly. I made a pit-stop along the way," he told him as the television in the corner caught his attention. Showing on it were 1930's burlesque stripteases. He fucking loved this place.

"You drinking? Where, maybe I'll come by and let you buy me a round."

"It's in Brooklyn."

"And your point is…? I'll take the train over."

"Or you could have Alex drive you," he said as he picked the bottle up and took another hefty drink.

Logan was quiet for a brief moment before asking, more softly in the phone, "I'm all for hanging with you, but if things are going to go like they did last time we were out…"

Bobby shut his eyes as the guilt from that evening twisted his gut and ached his heart. "It won't. I really uh, I really would like to apologize, Mike. I acted like a jerk…Come on, I'll buy you a round, and maybe even a second."

He could practically hear Logan smiling over the phone as he said, "I'm in. So, where are you?"

With a smile of his own, he answered, "I'm at the Tainted Lady."

Logan didn't say anything right away, but then he heard a startled, "The what?"

"Ask Alex, she knows it," he said before hanging up. Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he downed the rest of the beer and gestured for another as he tossed more money on the bar top and waited.

By the time Alex and Logan walked into the bar, he was situated in a booth opposite the bar, his third beer in his hand, and talking to a couple of twenty-something's about the bookstore on Bedford street. It was called the 'Spoonbill and Sugartown', and, according to him, it was the best damn bookstore that ever existed in New York.

He had to talk a little loud to be over the music the DJ was playing, currently a "60's garage" female band that even escaped his vast knowledge. "It specializes in used and rare books. I mean, extremely rare editions that I've never been able to find anywhere until I walked into that place. And tons of art books. You're an Art major, right?" he asked the guy with thick black-framed glassed with a band t-shit on under a flannel.

"Yeah," the guy answered.

"Then you'll love it. It's just right over on Bedford, between, uh…" he lost his train of thought when he spotted Alex and Mike. Alex was searching the bar for him while Mike's jaw was on the floor. Chuckling slightly, he waved, catching Alex's attention. "My girlfriend's here," he explained before trying to remember what he was talking about. "Oh, uh, the bookstore. It's between 4th and 5th Street. I swear I walk into that place and don't come out for hours. You never know what you're going to find. It's great," he finished telling the guy as he moved to get up as Alex approached.

The guy got up with him and shook his hand, "Hey, thanks. I'll definitely check it out."

Bobby shook the young man's hand, said waved 'bye' to the young woman sitting in the booth as well, the guy's girlfriend, as he stepped up to Alex and leaned down to give her a kiss.

Alex was a little surprised at first but immediately responded to him as he captured her lips in his for a brief moment before stepping back. "Missed me that much did ya?"

"Always miss you," he softly told her as he looked to Mike and smiled. "Well?"

Mike didn't take his eyes off the walls as he uttered in complete fascination, "I love this place."

Bobby started chuckling as he slapped him on the shoulder. "And since it's happy hour, beer is only two bucks. Alex likes the three dollar margaritas. The food is pretty damn good too. Come on, let's grab a booth before they're all taken." He lead them to the nearest open booth and let Alex slid in first before sitting next to her.

Mike still hadn't pried his eyes off the paintings that adorned the walls of the bar. Bobby looked over at Alex who just rolled her eyes.

"If you don't stop looking, you're going to go blind. At least that was what my mother always told my brothers."

"Then I'll go blind," Mike cracked back at Alex's remark. "Are these paintings?"

Bobby nodded as he explained, "A, uh, truck driver from upstate painted them from vintage pinups from the 50's and 60's. The men's room is also, uh…something interesting."

Mike gave him a look before getting up and heading toward the restrooms, once Bobby pointed the way.

Stilling laughing, he asked Alex, "What's in the lady's room?"

"Vintage 60's and 70's pulp book covers, and it's very clean. And speaking of which, move it. I gotta go."

Getting up, he let Alex out of the booth and as she walked by him he couldn't help but check out her as she walked away. Sitting back down, he picked up the bottle off the table and took a swallow as he spotted Mike coming around the corner grinning the like Cheshire Cat.

As Mike sat down, he said, "Did I mention that I love this place?"

"Once, I think."

A waiter appeared and asked for their orders; Mike ordered a beer and he asked for another and two margaritas for Alex, as well as a order of home fries and there French toast. The rock song ended and as he looked over at Mike, The Ronnettes '_Be My Baby_' filled the silence.

Mike gave him a funny look when the waiter walked away and Bobby just shrugged. When Alex returned a few seconds later, he got up to let her in, saying, "I ordered for you."

"Did you get there fries and French toast?"

Bobby smiled at her as he said, "It'll be right up."

"It's the best," Alex explained to Mike. "French toast stuffed with marmalade and cream cheese. I come here just for it whenever I can."

"And the margaritas," Bobby said as two were promptly placed on the table along with the beer he and Mike ordered before the waiter was off again. "And the service."

Alex took a big sip of the margarita before looking over at him. "By the way, Deakins is fine. It was Bell's Palsy. He's taking the weekend off, but should be back on Monday."

Bobby nodded as he relaxed a little.

"So," Mike said, changing the subject, as he picked up the bottle. "The painted naked ladies on the walls don't offend you?"

Alex gave a shrug as she looked up at the paintings. "I can live with it, as long as I keep getting cheap food and alcohol."

Bobby laughed a little as he leaned back in the booth and stretched his legs out. Thankfully Logan was in the middle of the seat across from them or else he would have kicked him. "Like you have to pay anyway. I'm the one who's glad it's cheap, or else you'll have me broke in a week." Looking over at Alex, he told her, "I heard there's a vintage lingerie fashion show happening in a few days, I guess it's for Valentine's Day. Wanna come?"

"Sounds like fun, as long as you're not trying to get me to participate."

He just stared at her for a moment before saying, "I wouldn't dare to ask you that. Besides, we can have our own little show-"

"If you don't shut up, I'll hit you," Mike said from across the table.

Bobby glanced at Mike as he took a drink of the beer before dropping it when he saw the death glare by the both of them.

Then Alex leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You're on."

He whipped his head around and saw the amused glint in her eyes as she picked up the margarita and took a drink. Wiggling his eyebrows at her, she laughed and shook her head at him before he turned to Logan and asked about the case.

So far, nothing other than the wallet had been found in the car. No prints or DNA, no witnesses or cameras that could have caught anything that happened under that bridge. The only thing they had to go on now were theories and a hope that something turns up in the East River.

"What'd you find out from Patterson?"

Bobby saw the dark look that crossed Mike's eyes and was once again curious as to why he got that look every time he mentioned Patterson's name. Shaking his head, he told him, "Nothing I'm ready to discuss. I have to go over it with Deakins on Monday."

Logan looked offended by him keeping him at a distance, but he didn't feel comfortable letting Mike know what he was thinking just yet. He knew from just that look that Mike would have a serious problem with it.

It wasn't long after that, only one more margarita, before he was lounging across the booth watching Alex dancing in the middle of the bar to '_Heartbreaker_'by Pat Benatar.

"I haven't heard one song sung by a guy since I got here."

"And you won't. Are you complaining?" Bobby asked Mike as he kept his eyes on the woman he loved.

"Just making an observation."

"Okay," he off-handedly uttered as Alex started dancing his way. The song changed and started to play Janis Joplin's "_Piece of My Heart_" and he knew he was in trouble. "I'll be back," Bobby told Mike as he sat his beer down and got up as Alex took his hand.

He spun her around in a twirl as they headed out onto the empty floor space by the DJ. Alex turned around in his arms, facing away from him as she started to sing along with the lyrics.

"Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man…" she sung as she slid down his front, sliding her arm around his neck, making him nearly die right then and there. "Yeah, and didn't I nearly give you everything that a woman possible can?"

When she straightened back up, he wrapped his arms around her waist, running his hand over her stomach, as he whispered in her ear, "You keep doing that and you're going to embarrass me."

Alex smiled up at him but kept dancing with her back, and ass, rubbing against him. "Honey, you know I did! And each time I tell myself that I, well, I think I've had enough, but I'm gonna show you, baby…"

"Show me what?" he teasingly asked in her ear as she turned around and shoved him a little, making him smile at her playfulness.

"…that a woman can be tough," she said as she strutted over to him and held pulled her into his arms once again.

Four rounds and two hours later, they finally left the bar with Logan's continuous praises of how much he loved the place.

"We get it, Mike!" Alex playfully yelled at him as she bent down to take off her high.-heeled boots. "My feet are killing me!" She stumbled a little and Bobby immediately caught her before she could fall.

"I told you not to have the Silk Stocking," Bobby told her, referring to the last drink she had ordered before they left.

"It was pink and delicious," she told him, shoving a finger into his chest.

"I know something else that's pink and delicious I'll like to have tonight," he deeply told her as he took her boots into his hand.

"That was so crude," she said as she started to walk ahead of him.

"That wasn't-"

Alex rolled her eyes but he could see the desire in her eyes. "You have such a dirty mouth when you've been drinking."

"I no longer feel comfortable," Mike announced as he started across the street.

"Where're you going?" Bobby called out as he caught up to Alex who was swaying slightly on the sidewalk.

"Home," Mike called over his shoulder. "You two have a good night, and don't call me in the morning."

"Don't plan on it, since I'm not getting up until the crack of noon." Bobby wrapped his arms around the short woman who leaned into his chest, humming in pleasure.

"That was fun," Alex said in a soft voice. "We haven't had fun like that in a long time."

"Sorry about that," he apologized, but she shook her head.

"I understand," she told him as she rested her chin on his chest. "You're depressed."

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are," she said matter-of-factly. "I know it, and so do you."

Bobby closed his eyes and gave up his fight to argue the point because he knew she was right. He opened his eyes and stared into hers as he unwrapped his arms from her and handed her the boots. "It's cold, you should put these back on."

Alex didn't look away from him for a long moment before giving a nod into his chest. She stepped back and he helped to steady her as she slid her boots back on with a groan. Then she took his hand as they started to walk. "I'm not driving and neither are you. We'll come back for my car in the morning."

"Afternoon."

She chuckled as they headed north toward the park.

TBC…

P.S.: The bar 'Tainted Lady Lounge' did exist in Williamsburg, Brooklyn in 2005. However, it is now closed.


	4. Saturday, February 12th, 2005

A/N: I'm loving the reviews! I usually don't single any reviewers out, but, insubordinationfreak, I like the way you think.

Okay, this whole entire day takes place mostly at the apartment. I know right…

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

It had taken him almost three hours to finally fall asleep, but only two to wake back up. He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to Alex's soft breathing next to him for an hour before he had enough of lying in bed doing nothing.

Getting up, he went through his new nightly ritual of checking the rooms and doors, the alarm, and instead of grabbing something with alcohol in it because he didn't have anything, he put the coffee on. He had told Alex that he wouldn't buy anymore beer until he was off work, which was this weekend, but as he paced around the kitchen waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, he knew that he had to start making some major changes or else he was going to lose everything.

The first thing he had to do was stop his excessive drinking. It was going to be hard, and it was probably going to cause him more problems at first, but he could tough through it. For his sake and Alex's, he had to do something. Seeing that the coffee was almost done, he filled a tall cup to the brim and took a cautious sip as he turned to head toward the study.

For once, Polly was resting as he wandered through the living room. Checking to see if the bird was even still alive, he saw that it was breathing before going into the study. He flipped on the light and went over to one of his bookcases as he searched the titles for his copy of the DSM-IV.

Pulling it out, he tossed it on the desk as he sat down. Flipping through the pages, he came to the diagnostic criteria for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder and started reading. Almost two hours later of reading and cross-referencing, and through some serious soul searching and admissions that he didn't want to make, he closed the book and stared at it.

He got up and refilled his cup with more coffee before heading into the bedroom. Finding his cell phone in his pants pocket that he'd slung over the chair in the corner, he flipped it open as he dialed a number as he headed back into the study. Alex was still peacefully asleep so he left the door open as he sat down and listened to the ringing.

After a few rings, and fearing it would go to voicemail, the ringing stopped as he heard, "Yaa, Bobby! Ohayou gozaimasu!"

It took him a minute to comprehend the Japanese but he finally got it as he said, "Declan, why-"

"I'm in Tokyo!"

Bobby rubbed at his head as he leaned forward on his knees. "What're you doing in Tokyo?"

"I'm here for a conference…hang on," Declan told him and he could hear noises in the background and his mentor ordering a drink. "I love these Japanese restaurants. Remember that one we were at-"

"Dec, I didn't call to talk about-"

"…and that waitress. I believe you ended up getting her to taking you up on dinner," Declan laughed a little before saying, "We gotta come back here together some time."

Bobby sighed as he felt the anger in him build. "Declan! Would you shut-up already about the damn…" he stopped himself as he slapped the desk, nearly knocking over the cup of coffee.

Declan was silent before asking in concern, "What's going on? Why are you so angry?"

Breathing out, he picked up the cup and took a sip as he tried to calm down.

"Bobby? Bob, are you-"

"I'm still here. I, uh…I didn't mean…" he stared at the desk and then at the DSM, trying to remember why he even decided to call Declan. The man was a Forensic Psychologist and he had wanted his advice, but now he regretted calling. He didn't feel like talking to his friend and mentor about it. "You're busy eating and having, uh…I'll call you back some other time, okay? Sayonara."

"Wait, Bob-"

He flipped the phone shut and tossed it on the desk as he felt the pain gnawing in his gut. Hearing a noise at the door, he looked up and saw Alex leaning against the frame. Smiling a little as he rubbed at his aching head, he asked roughly, "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"I smelt the coffee and thought it was earlier. You said you weren't getting up until noon," she teased as she walked in. "Who did you hang up on?"

"Wrong number," he said, lying to her because he didn't want to explain or talk about it.

Alex slid her hand along the back of his neck, rubbing at the tension that had built as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. They sat together in silence for a long moment as she continued to rub his neck. His right hand rubbed up and down her back as he sat the coffee cup he'd been holding in his left on the desk.

Her saw her reach out toward the book and flip it open to the page he had marked with a post-it note. Not bothering to stop her, he turned his head and buried it into her chest as he heard her soft whispering as she read over the page.

"PTSD is a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that results in psychological trauma…involving the threat of death to oneself or others, overwhelming the individuals ability to cope." He felt her hand caressing up into his hair as she read, trying to calm him as his breathing increased. "Diagnostic symptoms include re-experiencing the trauma through flashbacks or nightmares, avoidance and emotional numbing, and increased arousal such as difficulty falling or staying asleep, problems with anger and concentration, or hyper-vigilance. It must last more than a month and cause significant impairment in social, occupational, and other areas of functioning."

"There's more," he said with a hitch in his voice as his body started to tremble against hers. Reaching out, he turned the page and pointed to a few of the symptoms he highlighted.

Alex's hold on him tightened as she snuggled more firmly into his lap. "You're starting to panic, Bobby. You need to calm down." Nodding against her neck, he took a deep breath as her heard her soft murmuring as she began to read again. "Inability to recall major parts of the trauma, or decreased involvement in significant life activities…Decreased capability, or down to complete inability, to feel certain feelings…An expectation that one's future will be somehow constrained in ways not normal to other people…Is that way you've been reviewing the case files on both your abduction and the shooting?"

Bobby nodded again as he swallowed hard around the tightness that had restricted his throat. "I've been, uh…I don't remember certain things. I remember the feeling that I had, the distress and the anger and the fear, but…I've realized I've been repressing a lot of it."

"When did you start realizing it?"

Taking a deep breath, he admitted, "New Year's Eve."

Alex turned her head to him as she kissed over his temple. "When you were in the bar fight?"

"Yeah," he told her as he body trembled more, nearly to the point of convulsing.

"Calm down-"

"I can't," he whispered into her neck as he felt himself start to get angry.

"That was before the shooting, Bobby. Why were you-"

"It wasn't the shooting," he harshly snapped before he could catch himself.

Alex was still curled up on his lap and he wasn't aware that his hand was gripping her waist a little too hard until he felt her hand cover his. She eased her fingers between his until his grip loosened. "Maybe I should-"

"Don't go," he desperately whispered into her neck. He still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He was too afraid of what he might see.

"I'm not going," she tried to reassure him but the fear in his chest was too painful, too powerful, to believe those words.

Everyone left him, always. Everyone lied, and he was the idiot fool who tried to believe them that they weren't. Pretty soon Alex would realize that he wasn't worth it, wasn't worth the effort, and now that he was sick with something seriously wrong, she would leave him too. Just as he father left.

Alex was still holding him despite his tight hold on her; he was afraid that he might hurt her but she didn't seem to mind. "It says that depression is a secondary symptom of PTSD."

He gave another nod as he tried to control his breathing before he got too angry, which just caused all the pain in his stomach to ache even more.

Now that he knew what it was caused from, and not wanting to go off on Alex like before, he held it in as he gave into the pain that nearly sent him to the floor in agony. He would rather suffer through the pain than to yell at her again. The explosion of anger could wait until she was far enough away from him.

The tears escaped his clenched eyes and Alex noticed right away. "Hey," she said as he felt her thumb run under over his cheek. "What's the matter?"

Shaking his head, he couldn't tell her that his gut was twisting and aching so bad that it was bringing tears to his eyes. "Just…tired, that's all," he said between clenched teeth and jaw.

"You look like you're in pain."

"Nothing I can't handle." Looking down at the book, he turned a page and told her, "There's more. It, uh…it says that, um, that self-medication is common…Th-that, uh…that PTSD can be hindered or worsen by-by medication or alcohol overuse, abuse, or dependence…I've been doing that."

Alex pulled his head toward her, trying to get him to look at her but he blatantly refused by keeping his eyes down and jerking his head away. "Bobby, look at me."

"I can't, Alex. Okay, I just…You should know all of this if you're going to stay. It's not going to be easy, you know…The mood swings are part of this and it's only going to get worse before it gets better, but now that I know and you know then…then we can deal with it better."

"You're going to go talk to someone now aren't you?" When he didn't answer, she said, "Please tell me you're not going to try and get past this on your own."

"I have to stop drinking. That'll be the first step, cut out all the-"

"Damn it, Goren," Alex angrily said as she moved on his lap, getting right in front of him. "You can't do this alone. There's medication for this that will help."

"I'm not taking a fucking pill!" he finally snapped as he glared up at her. "I already got myself addicted to pain medication, I can only imagine what I'll do with-with an antidepressant or mood stabilizer, or even a damn antipsychotic…It's a waste of time anyway and all these psychiatrist, all they want to do is drug you and make you not be able to function properly, turn you into a fucking drone who can't think straight. They did it to my mother and I'm not letting them do it to me."

Alex stared down at him, confused, slightly irritated, but most of all concerned as she said, "Your mother is doing better on the medication-"

"Yeah, not thinking clearly, living in a fog half the time…restless and not being able to sleep, and still having psychotic breaks and needing to be sedated…Sounds like the drugs are working wonders," he bitterly snapped as he stared down between them. "Over twenty years and she's no better off than when she wasn't taking any. I don't want to be on medication the rest of my life," he sternly told her. "I don't want to be in therapy the rest of my life either, okay. Because that's what they do. They don't actually cure anything, they just heal you a little bit at-at a time, making you 'work' on your problems, as they stretch it out over years and years of sessions. I'm not going to pay someone who's just going to sit and pretend to be listening only to tell me at the end of the session that time's up and he'll see me next week."

Alex had remained quiet as he rambled and vented until he was finally out of breath and staring at past her at the wall. "So instead of seeking professional help, you're going to detox yourself from alcohol and try to deal with it yourself by confiding in no one, getting angrier and angrier until…what?"

Bobby breathed out as he stared up at her. "I'll work it out."

"How can you work it out when you're the problem? You can't be objective."

"But you can," he told her as he pleaded with her. "That is if you don't leave me before-"

"If you're going to do this, Bobby, you have to get it into that head of yours that I'm not going anywhere. Like I told you last night, if I leave then who will be here for you? No one. You're going to need a support system and right now I'm the only one you got."

"I got Lewis…Declan," he told her before stopping as he tried to think of anyone else. He couldn't.

"And me," Alex said as she turned his face up toward hers. "Stop keeping me at a distance." She leaned down and kissed him firmly on the mouth as her arms wrapped around his neck.

He tried to return the kiss with as much love and compassion she was giving him but couldn't. Bobby tried to feel the love she was giving him, tried to reason it in his head that she wouldn't eventually leave, that her words were the truth, but the more he tried the more distant he felt.

Finally, Alex broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against his. "Last night, you were desperate, kissing me with so much passion and need that it was nearly terrifying. Earlier tonight you were playful and making crude sexual suggestions," she said as she breathed out. "And now, you're miles away. These are the mood swings that I'm having problems with, Bobby. This behavior was what had me thinking before about leaving you."

Bobby closed his eyes at the guilt he felt ignite his chest. "I…"

"You don't know why you do it and you can't control the when or the how…" she tried to reason with him as he shook his head. "This is exactly why you're not going to be able to do this on your own."

"I'll try harder."

"Try harder at doing what? Do you even know what you've got to do?"

Bobby hated to admit that he had no clue what to do or how to do it, but he did know that he wasn't see a shrink. He would probably end up hitting the guy if he did. The pain, which had eased slightly with his frustration and irritably, was once again making its presence known in his gut. Like his doctor had told him, the cycle was continuing and pretty soon he would get angry again. He would eventually snap at her again, and possibly yell and hit or kick at something.

Taking a breath, he said, "I really think you should at least have somewhere to go if I can't."

Alex sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "I love you, Bobby, and I really don't want to see you self-destruct, or have a breakdown, when you know you can do something to prevent it from happening. For me, can you please get over your hate and distrust of psychiatrists and medications."

Working his jaw hard back-and-forth, he shook his head 'no'.

"You stubborn…" she trialed off as she stared down at him.

He kept glancing up at her, feeling her frustration and anger at him, as he said, "Now, are you going to leave?"

Alex glared down at him, and with a shove, pushed him against the back of the chair. "No, but I am seconds away from smacking some sense into you."

With a smirk, he dared her, "Go 'head, Alex, hit me. Do it, I'll let you do it." When she didn't, and the only thing she did was shake her head at him in dismay. Bobby moved her off his lap while he stood. "I didn't think so."

Alex, still fuming over him calling her out, told him as he reached around to pick up his empty coffee cup. "One of us has to remain objective and level-headed, don't you think? This isn't going to end well if I kill you."

"Whatever," he called over his shoulder as he left the study, mumbling to himself, "Maybe it'll be better if you did. Save us both the misery."

* * *

><p>He wouldn't stop pacing. Round and around through the rooms, it was like watching a caged animal. In his hand was a can of coke instead of his usual bottle of beer or glass of scotch, and a cigarette. She figured they would deal with one addiction at a time. Making him quit smoking cold turkey at the same time he was battling his alcohol dependence was only going to make things worse. Taking another sip of the coffee, she sighed as she leaned back in the recliner and flipped through the pages of the DSM-IV that Bobby had been reading earlier.<p>

He had said that it would be best for her to know what was happening, or going to happen, if she stayed. So, taking him up on that, she had brought the book with her out into the living room and began reading about not only PTSD but other things as well, like depression and alcohol abuse, and substance abuse in general. It shocked her to realize that Bobby was borderline becoming a full-blown addict. His dependence and abuse of alcohol could have very easily turned more severe without her even realizing it.

Bobby was the master at hiding things, and hiding an addiction would have been something he could have easily done. Especially since she had a way of defending him, and overlooking some of his behavior, in trying to understand him.

In a way she has been enabling his behavior. It was time she faced up to that and realize that in order for Bobby to get better she had to start putting her foot down. And not just saying it with no follow through. She had realized that when Bobby had egged her on about smacking him and she didn't. She could say so much, threaten him so many times, but if she never actually did anything than it sent him a message that he could do it and get away with it.

It was one of the rules they learned very early on at the police academy. If you threaten a suspect, you better be willing to follow through with your threat. It did no good to tell someone to drop their gun or you'll shoot only to not actually pull the trigger.

She didn't think she would have to do that in her personal relationship, but Bobby wasn't like a normal boyfriend. He liked to test people, push them, and he did it with everyone. Even with her even after she had gotten on him about not doing it. She realized after getting back with him that he couldn't help it. It was part of who he was. He always had to see how far he could go, how far he could push someone else to go…

It was time she set her boundaries and made him follow them. It was like she was trying to train a dog.

"What's so funny?"

Alex looked up at him and realized that she had started to laugh at herself. "I just thought of you as an untrained dog."

Bobby only stared at her before sticking the cigarette back in his mouth, continuing his pacing. He downed the can and went into the kitchen to grab another one.

"You're going to make yourself sick."

Bobby ignored her as he popped open another can and started his pacing. They had recently bought a twenty-four cases of sodas, Coke for him and Mountain Dew for her, and he was already halfway through his case.

"If you're going to drink that much, maybe you should switch to diet?"

He gave her a look as he took a drink and disappeared back down the hallway, only to return a few minutes later, tapping the can against his leg and puffing away on the cigarette.

"What memories were you repressing?" she suddenly asked as he stared at the blank television across the room.

"What memories?" he asked; his voice sounded distant, like he wasn't completely there and she didn't think he was. There was a lot going on in that mind of his.

"The ones you had on New Year's Eve that made you realize you were repressing them?"

Bobby blinked back and shook his head.

"It was before the shooting so…" Alex sighed as she thought of the two files he had been obsessively reading over in the study. "You didn't remember your abduction?"

"I remembered the abduction," he said with a hint of defiance, and a warning in his voice. "Leave it alone, Alex, please."

"I'm not leaving it alone. You've got to talk about it. After my kidnapping, I talked about it and it got better. I talked to Dr. Olivet, my family and friends…You never talked about it. You never even went to confront Jared-"

"Alex, God damn it! I said to leave it alone!"

She expected his anger at some point so instead of getting upset herself over his sudden outburst, she held it together as she thought more about it. "Have you even said the words? I know you had to have told Elliot because he took your statement, but since then have you even admitted it to yourself what happened?"

Bobby was seething and she knew she was going to make him lost it, but maybe he needed to lose it. He needed to confront all these feelings that were hindering him.

"It's hard to admit. I can only imagine what it's like for you, being a man, to say that you were raped-"

He was across the room before she could even move. The book she had on her lap was snatched up and thrown across the room. It hit the mantel above the fireplace, sending her books and bookends to the floor as he yelled, "Stop reading that damn book!" He turned and hit the wall before disappearing down the hallway.

She gave him, and herself a few minutes to calm down before getting up out of the recliner. Finding him in the bedroom sitting on the bed with his hands buried in his hands, she felt her heart go out to him. Not only was he trying to get over being shot and almost dying, but he also had the added pain of his past rape he was struggling with.

"This is too much for you to handle, Bobby. With being a woman, I can only imagine the pain and guilt and everything that goes along with that happening, but for you…For a man to have to face something like that, it's going to be too much. You've already been repressing it for so long…"

"I can deal with this."

"No, you can't," she stressed to him again. "You threw a book across the room and told me to stop reading it because I was trying to get you to admit-"

"I'll admit it, okay!" he snapped. "I was…I…" he stopped and groaned in frustration and pain as he dropped his arms to his stomach and laid back on the bed. "Everything hurts so damn much, Alex. I need it to stop," he desperately said as he was on the verge of tears.

"You need medication and therapy."

"What if I start abusing the medication? What if I get addicted to it like I did with the pain meds? What if I start drinking again?"

"What if the roof collapsed," she countered, making him turn his head to stare at her.

"I'm serious."

"So am I," she said as she moved away from the door and kneeled on the bed next to him. "You have to stop worrying about all the 'what if's'."

"I'm not being unreasonable," he muttered as he looked toward the ceiling. "These are issues that my whole family had faced and battled and lost to. I'm no better than any of them. It's just my time, is all. These are my weaknesses that I'm plagued by," he softly said as he thought about what Nicole had asked him. _"What plagues you, Bobby?" _"Alcohol, pain…guilt," he said even though it wasn't everything. "And the overwhelming need to make it all stop. I'll do just about anything. I'll become addicted to pain meds in order to make it stop."

Alex leaned down over him, making him have to wrap his arms around her so she could lay on his chest. Kiss him over his clothed chest, to his neck, and then up to his lips, as she told him, "You are better. And you have something that they never had."

"And what's that?"

"Someone who believes in you. Someone who won't walk out, who won't abandon you for their own needs."

Bobby shifted his eyes away from the ceiling to look at her. He sighed and gave a slight nod. "I tried, you know. I did, but nothing I ever did was good enough. All of it, wasted effort. I don't want that to happen to you."

"It won't because if my love for you can't do it, you've got your stubborn will that I'm certain will do the trick."

He huffed out a laugh but she saw the anger leave him for now.

"You're no longer angry."

It took him a moment to respond, but when he did his voice no longer held the resentment or anguish it had earlier. "I feel calmer."

Alex smiled as she gave him another kiss on the mouth. He still didn't respond as passionately as he should have, but he wasn't pulling away either. "Ready to get some more sleep."

"I can try," he said as he went to let her go. Sitting up, he caught her before she could move away.

Pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head into her chest. "I'm sorry for yelling," he muttered against her clothed body as she ran her hands through his hair.

"I know, and you don't have to be. There's no reason to apologize for this."

"I don't want you to think-"

She pushed him back a little so she could look down at him. Bobby steadied his breathing as he stared down at the floor. "I would never think that you did any of that on purpose. That's not you."

Giving a nod, he got up and pulled her into a hug. She felt him give her a kiss on the top of her head before leaving the room. Hearing the bathroom door shut, she let out a deep breath and prayed for the strength to get through this with him.

She didn't know then how long of a night it was going to be.

Getting in under the covers, she rolled over in bed and tried to settle down in the bed as she waited for Bobby to come back out of the bathroom. Thirty minutes later she had fallen asleep and he still hadn't emerged.

The feeling that someone was watching her woke her from a restless sleep. Reaching out, she felt the empty bed and sighed in sorrow. He still wasn't in bed. Looking at the clock, she saw it was almost three in the morning. "Where is he?" she softly asked as she rolled onto her back while rubbing at her eyes.

She heard him breathing and that was when he remembered what had woken her. Sitting up, she glanced around the room and nearly jumped at seeing the dark shadow of someone standing the doorway. Once she was over the initial fear, she saw that the dark shadow was Bobby.

"What in the hell, Goren? You scared the shit out of me." When he didn't answer, she looked him over and realized that he was holding something around his hand. "What happened?"

Bobby looked down at his hand and without looking back up, said, "I, uh…I cut my hand."

"On what?"

"The mirror."

Alex was confused before it dawned on her how he could have done something like that. She cursed as she got up and walked up to him. "You broke the mirror," she said as she reached out to take a look at his hand.

He quickly pulled it away as he said, "I was going to drive myself to the hospital but…I couldn't find my keys and your car's still parked at the Tainted Lady. Then I was going to the bus but I couldn't get my coat on."

She shook her head at him as she quickly got dressed and then pulled him out a flannel and helped him to put it on over his t-shirt. Then she grabbed their coats and helped with that as well before going in search for his car keys. She found them on the dresser and dangled them in front of him.

"I didn't look there."

"I see, or else you would have found them. C'mon, I'll drive."

Bobby followed her out of the house and into his car. Once they were in, she cursed again and looked over at him. He smirked a little, saying, "You can't drive a stick."

Alex pushed the door open and went around to the passenger side as he got out. "Where are you going?"

Bobby looked over at her as he gestured to the driver side. "Someone's gotta drive."

"With one hand? It's a stick, you need both. And it's your right hand, you need that one to shift. We'll take the train. Where's the nearest emergency room?" she asked as they headed out onto the sidewalk.

Bobby looked at her as he said, "The nearest emergency room that's any good in Brooklyn is in Bushwick."

"We might as well go to Queens. What about your doctor?"

"It's three in the morning and his office is closed."

As they headed out onto the sidewalk, she said, "I can't believe I have to rush you off to a hospital by walking to the subway to get there."

Despite the cold, and the situation, Bobby chuckled. "If that's not love…"

Alex glared over at him but she smiled at that little remark. "Oh, it's love alright. Or insanity. How's your hand?"

"It's throbbing, but at least it's distracting me from the pain in my gut."

Alex stopped walking as he kept going. When he realized she had stopped, he turned to face her. She glared at him with suspicion as she asked, and trying not to accuse, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"What?" Bobby asked in confusion as he stared right back at her.

"Cut your hand, Bobby. Did you do that on purpose in order to distract you from the pain, and to get yourself back on pain meds?"

At that accusation, Bobby glared at her and she could see the anger coming back with vengeance. "How in the hell could you accuse me of something like that? I cut my fucking hand open, Alex, and believe me it wasn't on purpose!"

"Then what were you doing throwing your non-dominate hand into a mirror when you're left handed?"

At that, he stopped his heated rant as he stared hard at her. He lost focus for a second before he gapped at her and nothing came out. Then, he said as if realizing something, "I swear to you I didn't…not consciously, I didn't-I wasn't even aware of it until…I was just in so much pain-" he whispered in a near plea for her to understand. "You've got to believe me-…I would never intentionally hurt myself."

She felt her eyes start to burn with tears as she walked up to him and pulled him into hug. "I believe you. I'm sorry."

Once they had both settled down, they continued on their way to the subway station. "Where's the closest station?"

"Right up here on Nassau. We can catch the G and take it to Bedford, then get on the L. That'll take us right by the hospital. It's how I get to work when I don't drive, except I take it going the other way."

"Obviously," she snarked as they approached Nassau Avenue.

"My metro card's in my wallet."

Alex dug into his back pocket for his wallet, causing him to give her an amused look. She only rolled her eyes as she flipped it open and pulled out the metro card before putting his wallet back in the pocket.

* * *

><p><em><span>St. Nicholas Medical Center<span>_

_Bushwick, Brooklyn_

Thirty minutes later they were in the emergency room and Bobby was staring at the floor as he cradled his bloody hand to his chest.

The t-shirt that he had wrapped around it was soaked through and so the nurse replaced it with a fresh clean bandage but they still had to wait for an open room. Looking around the chairs, not a single one was empty and there were even people lined along the walls. Alex was afraid to get up because someone might take her seat.

"Is it always this busy?"

"Like I said, the other emergency rooms are hell holes," Bobby softly told her as he looked up. "I wasn't kidding. Everyone in Brooklyn knows better."

"It's like I'm in a Seinfeld episode."

Bobby started laughing as he leaned into her and kissed her ear. "We'll be out of here soon enough."

"I should flash our shields, that'll get us in a room quick." Alex turned to him and captured his lips in hers. She did care that the room was packed with sick and injured people, she leaned further into him and deepened the kiss.

Bobby surprised her by not pulling away like he normally would have, depressed or not, and let her slide her tongue over his bottom lip.

"Mr. Goren!"

Bobby breathed out as he broke the kiss and got up. "See, excellent patient care."

"They just wanted us to stop making out in the ER."

Alex followed Bobby through the halls and into an empty room. She watched as he took a pain pill as the nurse set up what she would need to stitch his hand. When she took the dressing off, she got a good look at the top of his hand and frowned. He had cut the space between his index and middle finger, along with the knuckles of both, all the way down to the white bone. The blood had stopped and he didn't seem light-headed or dizzy.

"You're going to need stitches inside your hand as well. Several tendons were severed."

Bobby gave a nod as he turned to face her as the nurse grabbed the needle. Alex grimaced as she had to look away as the nurse stuck it into his hand. He grabbed her waist and pulled her over to him. "It's nothing too bad. Just stitches and maybe a brace for my finger…and a bandage. In a few weeks it'll be fine."

"But you still won't be," she said into his ear. She saw the despair in his eyes as he kept his focus on her.

"This will _not_ happen again," he promised her.

Alex wished she could believe him, but she was starting to have her doubts. "Okay, maybe not this, but something else."

Bobby breathed out as his eyes closed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him while the nurse looked on, stitching up his hand.

It didn't take long for him to be cleared to go home without a prescription after Bobby blatantly refused the stronger pain medication. She had told the doctor that they already had a prescription of ibuprofen at home, so the doctor accepted the refusal and let them go. It pleased her that he had the strength to turn the medication down, proving to her that he hadn't done that to himself just to get pain meds.

As they sat down on the subway, she leaned into him and closed her eyes. He kept his injured hand around her shoulders as the train raced through the tunnels, taking them back home.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

Bobby woke around one that afternoon and felt his stomach aching from both pain and hunger. His hand was also throbbing and he groaned into the pillow as he rolled onto his stomach, burrowing himself deeper into the bedding.

He felt her hand run along his head, over his forehand as she told him, "There's a couple of ibuprofens on you nightstand and a bottle of water. I need to check to see if you can also have some Tylenol."

"Why would I need Tylenol?"

"Because you're running a fever."

He opened his eyes and flinched at the sunlight pouring through the window.

Alex got out of bed and went over to the window to draw the blinds and close the drapes. "There."

"Thanks," he mumbled as he reached over and took the pills before downing them with water. "And I'm sure the Tylenol will be fine."

Lying back in bed, he watched as she left the bedroom as he inspected the bandage. He saw some blood spots from seepage but nothing to cause alarm. Slowly unraveling it, he felt the throbbing start to ease and let out a deep breath or air in relief. Tossing the old bandage to the floor, he looked at the stitched cuts and didn't see any signs of infection. His hand was swollen and a greenish bruise was formed around his knuckles and the back of his hand, other than that, it all looked okay. On his index finger was an brace to keep him from bending it.

Alex returned to the room with her hands full and the white paper bag they left the hospital with. In one hand she held a cup of coffee, in the other the bottle of Tylenol. She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and put the cup on the nightstand.

"There's no infection," he told her as she unscrewed the cap on the bottle of pain medication.

"It's probably from your hangover, and all the stress from last night."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He took two to the extra strengths pain pills, and fever reducers, with a sip of coffee.

Alex dug into the paper bag and pulled out a new bandage. "You were supposed to have kept that one on for at least twenty-four hours."

"It's not going to matter."

She took his hand as he watched her eyes roamed over the injury. Alex carefully applied the antibacterial ointment before taking as much care with wrapping the bandage around his hand. "That's not too tight is it?"

He shook his head as he kept watching her, trying to feel anything other than a slight hint of irritation that he felt too helpless to take care of himself. Anyone else would have felt gratitude and love, appreciation and valued. In his current state, he couldn't feel any of that, and that scared him more than knowing that he had thrown his fist into a glass mirror.

"All better," she said as she laid his hand down on his chest as she leaned down to give him a kiss.

He let her firmly kiss him on the mouth as he tried to reciprocate with what he should have been feeling, but he grew frustrated with his apathy and finally just turned away. He tried to explain by telling her that he was sick, and she shouldn't be kissing him on the mouth. However, from the look on her face, they both knew the real reason.

"It's going to take time, Bobby. You can't force yourself to get over this in a matter of hours."

He didn't say anything as he stared at the closed drapes as the frustration, and the guilty, within him intensified. Closing his eyes, he focused on steadying his pacing heart as he let the pain medication ease the aching in his body.

His body started to grow heavy as his mind drifted, sending him in a fitful, and troubled, sleep.

When he woke again, it was dark in the bedroom. Looking toward the window, he realized it wasn't from the drapes being closed. The clock read 6:54 and he briefly wonder if it was seven at night or in the morning. It didn't matter, either way he had to get out of bed and go to the bathroom.

Standing on unsteady legs, he slowly made his way to the bathroom and shut the room. The broken mirror pieces had been cleaned up and he felt guilt for not having done that himself. He could imagine Alex cursing him out the entire time she was picking up sharp shreds of glass, and trying not to cut herself. He washed his hands and splashed his face a few times before heading out into the living room. His stomach was aching and he was certain that it was from the lack of eating.

The apartment was empty he realized as he entered the kitchen and saw no Alex. She wasn't in the living room either, or his study…The coffee pot was empty and so was the stove, and the multiple ovens. Scratching his head, he opened the refrigerator and peered inside. Nothing appealed to him as appetizing so he shut it and opened the freezer. He quickly realized that he didn't have much food in the house and the only thing in the freezer besides frozen hash browns and ice was a tub of ice cream.

Pulling out the ice cream, he shut the door with his elbow then went over to the sink and grabbed a spoon from the strainer.

* * *

><p>Alex fumbled with her keys as she unlocked the backdoor before using her foot to kick it in. Hurrying over to the table, she dropped the bags of groceries and then turned to shut the door. At seeing someone on the floor, she nearly jumped until she saw who it was.<p>

"Would you stop doing that?"

Bobby just looked up at her in confusion as he licked a spoon clean of the mint chocolate ice cream he was eating. "Need help?"

"No, I got it all," she told him as she pulled her keys out of the door before shutting it. Alex looked back down at him and asked, "What're you doing up?"

"I was hungry," he told her as he dug the spoon into the tub and then stuck it into his mouth. Of all the places to eat ice cream, he had to do it on the floor in front of the refrigerator, with no pants on.

"So you decided to raid the ice cream?" she teased as she started to unload the bag of groceries. "You're going to have to move."

Bobby grumbled as he uneasily stood and then went over to the table to sit like a normal person. "What'd you get?"

"Everything. I was planning on making a meatloaf tonight, any objections?"

Bobby shook his head as he took another bite of the ice cream. "We can make, uh…potatoes with it."

"Baked, mashed…au gratin?" she asked as she pulled out a container of multi-purpose breadcrumbs to use for cooking.

"We haven't had au gratin in awhile."

She sat the container on the counter by the stove and then pulled out the hamburger to make the meatloaf. "I got you some Gatorade," she told him as she pulled out two big bottles and took them over to the refrigerator to get them cold. "And some soup."

"I'm not sick," he told her as he looked up from the tub he'd been digging in.

Alex leaned over the table and pressed her hand against his forehead and then against his cheek. "You're not as hot as you were before, but you still don't look good."

"Thanks, appreciate it."

"You know what I mean. Your eyes are bloodshot and you're pale, sweating a lot."

"I'm pale because it's winter, and I always sweat a lot."

"Not like that. It's practically pouring off you." Alex left the kitchen and went into the bathroom to grab the thermometer. When she returned to the kitchen, he was putting some boxes of cereal and other dry foods away in the cabinet. "Come here," she said as she walked up to him.

When he turned, she stuck it into his mouth and pulled the spoon that had been in it out. "Wha-"

"Don't take it out," she told him as she tossed the spoon into the tub on the counter.

Bobby sighed and stared at her while they waited a few minutes. Taking it out, she checked his temp and saw it was 99.8. "It's still high."

"I'll take some more Tylenol and another ibuprofen if it'll make you feel better."

"It's supposed to make you feel better," she told him as she went back into the bedroom.

The bottle of medication were on the nightstand along with the now warm bottle and cold cup of coffee. Carrying everything into the kitchen, she handed him the two bottles then emptied the coffee into the sink before putting the cup into the dishwasher. She then tossed the bottle back into the refrigerator as she searched for an onion, the block of cheese…

"I got it all out," Bobby said when she started opening up drawers.

Alex looked over and spotted everything she'd been searching for on the counter by the stove. "Thanks."

"I'm not entirely useless."

Alex frowned over at him as she grabbed a mixing bowl out from under the cart in the middle of the room. "I never thought you were."

Bobby only looked at her as he reached over and picked up the tub and held it in the crook of his right arm.

"You can't save the rest of that for later?"

"I'll buy some more," he softly told her as he dug out another spoonful of the ice cream. "And if you tell me I'm going to ruin my appetite, it's too late for that. I've eaten half of this damn thing."

As she prepared the meatloaf, she felt his eyes watching her. Every time she looked up, he would look away. Deciding to let him do whatever as she prepared dinner, she started to talk to him about her day. "So, I discovered that in order to shop around here I'm going to have to learn Polish."

"Tak…proszë," Bobby said with a slight smirk. "I said, 'yes, please'."

She rolled her eyes at him as she formed meatloaf on the pan and then slid it into the oven. Bobby was in front of the sink so she had wait for him to move before she could wash her hands off.

He took his time moving away, causing her to glare at him while he just chuckled a little more.

"I'm glad you're finding this amusing."

"I take it you went and got your car all by yourself?"

"I didn't have a choice."

Bobby sat the tub down hard on the counter as he stared over at her. "Why'd you have to say it like that? I was in bed asleep, you could've woken me up."

"You have a fever, Bobby."

"So!" he snapped. "And since you know that I did have a fever," he corrected, "then you shouldn't say it like you were accusing me of not going with you."

"I wasn't accusing you of anything. I wanted to go, so I went," she shot back as she grabbed a knife out of the drawer and a potato peeler. Picking a potato up, she started peeling it without caring that it the skin was getting all over the counter.

Bobby groaned behind her and the next thing she knew the trash can was against her legs. "You're making a mess."

Alex focused on preparing dinner as she calmed herself down. Bobby had remained quiet after that as he put the ice cream back in the freezer and then left the room. She heard the shower running and realized he hadn't taken any plastic to cover the bandage. Setting the last potato and peeler down, she grabbed a plastic bag and headed toward the bathroom.

"Bobby, you didn't get any plastic…" she trailed off as she entered the bathroom and he was standing in the middle of the room staring at the empty spot where the glass had been.

Looking down, his fingers trailed over the scar on his abdomen. It was the first time she'd seen him without a shirt on since the shooting. He had always kept a t-shirt on no matter what and every time she tried to touch him anywhere near his scar, he would stop her. His look was a little off and distant as he shifted his eyes up to hers.

At noticing the bag in her hand, he stared at it for a moment before asking, "Is that for me?"

Alex looked to the bag and then held it out for him. "You don't want to get your bandage wet."

He took it from her as he told her, "Shut the door."

"Are you-"

"Alex," he sternly said as he glared at her. "Shut the door."

Doing as he said, she shut the door and left him alone.

* * *

><p>After they ate dinner and put the dishes away, Bobby grabbed a coke from the refrigerator as he felt his body aching for a beer, or a scotch, or a bottle of any damn thing with alcohol in it. His hand started shaking as he took a sip of the soda and then his stomach turned as he felt it go down. The fever wasn't going lower than 99.8, he was still sweating profusely, and his head was killing him along with his stomach.<p>

He was trying so hard not to go off on Alex, having already snapped at her a few times today. She was ready to leave him, he knew. Who would stay and put up with his shit anymore anyway? It wouldn't be long before he woke up and she would be gone for good. Only a matter of time before she got sick of him, like everyone else.

Downing the coke, the sat the empty can on the counter and then went and got another one. Before he could even open it, he felt his stomach lurch. He took off for the bathroom and got there just in time.

Alex came in right after him and started running the water in the sink as she grabbed a washcloth.

Everything in his body ached and clenched as he lost his stomach until he dry heaved with a tight and pained strained throat. "Oh, god…" he quivered as he felt another bout crash into him and dry heaved again until he was spitting up stomach acid.

His body was shaking so bad he would have thought he was cold but he wasn't. It felt like he was on fire. As he tried to stand, his head spun, sending him stumbling against the bathtub.

Alex was there to catch him as she eased him down to the be sitting on the floor. She handed him a glass of water as she flushed the toilet. He swished the water a few times before spitting it out. That only helped a little to clean his mouth out. Leaning against the tub as his head and body tortured him, he closed his eyes as he felt Alex place a cool washcloth over his head.

She used a warmer one to clean his face. Then she stopped mothering him as she leaned back against the tub next to him.

After they sat in silence for a few minutes, Alex asked, "Was it the ice cream?"

Shaking his head, he told her, "I was expecting this." When she didn't ask, he told her anyway, "Alcohol withdrawal. I just thought it would take a couple of days at least."

"You've been through this before?"

Barely shaking his head, he moaned as he told her, "Not me personally, no. I helped a buddy get through it in the Army." Looking over at her, he saw her leaning against him, completely ready to stay the whole night in that bathroom with him if it came to that. Even though he couldn't feel it right then, he thought it and knew that it was the truth. It had to be. "You remember yesterday, when I told you that I loved you?"

Alex blinked up at him as she said, "I'm surprised that you remember."

Smiling a little, he stared into her eyes as he honestly told her, "I meant it. Any woman that'll stick with me while I'm this messed up…I would kiss you, but…"

Alex turned her head and kissed him on the cheek. "I never doubted it. You don't have to say it all the time, I know you try to show me it everyday. Even when you're this messed up."

"I should still say it. I know that you women like to actually hear it every so often."

She smiled at him and moved her hand to rub along the back of his neck. Taking the washcloth off his forehead, she rubbed it along the nap of his neck and then over the front, under the collar of his shirt. He shivered at the coolness against his burning hot skin.

A few minutes later, he felt his stomach lurch again.

Before the night was over, he didn't think he would be able to talk.

* * *

><p>She didn't know how long it had been, probably hours, since Bobby started to get sick. Her back was starting to hurt, her head ached a little, and she was so tired. Resting her head on the edge of the tub, she stared out the door at the wall across the hallway, and sighed. Bobby was laying on the floor with his head in her lap. His body was shaking uncontrollably and the sweating wouldn't stop.<p>

Making sure he didn't dehydrate, she kept giving him glasses of water to drink despite him throwing it right back up. She had to believe that some of it was staying in his body.

"You're right," Alex finally spoke after they'd been resting in comfortable silence.

"About what?" he mumbled into her stomach.

"Me moving out. This living together thing isn't really working for us." At seeing the look of fear cloud his eyes, she reassured him by running her hand through his wet hair and saying, "Don't worry, I'm not leaving you, Bobby, but I've been thinking about what you said. I resisted at first because I thought you were just trying to either get rid of me or protect me, or both. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think it's one of the things we can actually do to help save this relationship. We were doing so much better living apart. It works for us, and there's nothing in the relationship rule book that says that we have to live together in order to be happy."

Bobby didn't say anything but she could tell that his mind was going. "I'm glad you're finally realizing that," he said in soft sigh of relief. "What's conventional or normal for most people isn't how everyone has to do things. We're two strong, independent people, who have conflicting lifestyles and hobbies." Bobby rolled onto his back and looked up at her. "I think I've been trying to tell you that for a while."

Alex smiled a little at his light teasing, but she also nodded in understanding. She'd been the one so gung-ho on pushing for the conventional thing. Just because it worked with her and Joe didn't mean that it would work with her and Bobby. "I pushed you into this."

"Not entirely. I was the one who asked you to move in and thought it could work."

"Yeah but the only reason you asked was because of what happened to me. I didn't want to live there anymore and you were missing me because you were working on Staten Island," she told him as she moved her left hand to his waist, running her fingers under his shirt and along his side.

"It made sense then," he said with a slight hitch in his voice when she touched him. Breathing out, he relaxed a little.

"And now?"

"And now, it doesn't. Everything has changed and even though I hate to admit it, we have to change with it…"

"By going back to the way things were?" she asked in confusion.

Shrugging he said, "Who said it has to be forward, if going back works best?"

"So this still means we're not getting married anytime soon?" she said lightly, teasing him as she leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"We gotta do what works best for us, right?" When her hand started to trail over to his left side, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away. Keeping her fingers in his palm, he told her, "I knew a couple who were together for fifty-two years, never married, but that didn't mean that they didn't love each other any less."

"Who was that?" Alex asked as she tried to hide the disappoint in her tone at him pulling her hand away. He still wasn't comfortable with her touching him.

"My uncle and his partner. Granted, they couldn't get married, but they loved each other, and were committed to each other, until they both died. I've never seen two happier people in my life. And according to society, they were as unconventional a couple as you could get."

Alex let him play with her fingers for awhile as she asked, "You're not going to freak out and think I'm abandoning you if I move?"

Staring up at her, he said, "Only if you don't abandon me."

Running her other hand through his hair, she smiled a little saying, "Good, because I really miss living in Rockaway. I miss the beach, my morning runs along the surf, having my nieces and nephew over to go shell hunting."

"Shell hunting?"

"That's what Amy calls it."

"You miss the life you had living there," he calmly said as he molded her hand flat against his. His was so much bigger and wider than hers, it nearly engulfed hers. "It's okay to want that, and to have it. I never wanted you to give up anything to be with me, Alex. If you want, we'll go looking at places tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday," she reminded him as she felt his forehead and noticed that it was no longer hot to the touch.

"And there's no way in hell I'm seeing my mother in this condition. I'll call her; it'll be okay."

Alex suddenly started laughing to herself. "My family's going to think I'm nuts moving again."

"Just explain to them that some couples can live together and others can't, we are the ones who can't." Bobby laid her hand on his chest, over his heart, as he looked up at her. "I mean, I love you and everything, but if I have to turn the damn heat down one more time…"

"Or if I have to get on you one more time about the toilet seat being up, or having to put your laundry up because you forget, or clean up after you. It's like living with a teenage boy."

"I'm not that bad."

"Bobby, instead of cleaning your coffee cup out you get a clean one, dirtying up two cups, and then you don't even put them in the dishwasher."

"And that's the reason why I always had a cleaning lady. I figured once you moved in-ow!" he exclaimed as she pinched his side. "That hurt," he said as he started to laugh a little.

"I think you're nausea has passed. How're you feeling?" she asked as she picked up the washcloth from the floor.

"My head and stomach still hurts," he told her as he took a moment to assess himself, "my throat is killing me, but I no longer feel like I'm going to get sick."

"Good, because my ass is numb and I'm exhausted. It's been a really long day."

They helped each other off the floor and Bobby quickly brushed his teeth, again, before they headed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. She helped him to lay down as he was still a little dizzy and his head hurt. To be on the safe side, she grabbed the trash can from under her nightstand and sat it next to his side of the bed.

After giving him two more Tylenol to help him sleep, she crawled into bed and sighed into the pillow. "Good night, Bobby."

He didn't say anything for a moment and she thought that he had already fallen asleep. Then she felt him wrap an arm around her waist from behind. Whispering into her ear, he told her, "Night, Alex."

TBC…


	5. Sunday, February 13th, 2005

A/N: Thanks everyone for the reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

He heard Alex's muffled "You've got to be kidding me…son-of-bitch," coming through the open bedroom door and briefly wondered if she got a phone call from work.

It was morning, sometime-he didn't know because he had his head buried in the pillow-so it could have been her response to having been called out or something. He, on the other hand, wasn't ready to leave the warm comfort of his bed yet. His head was no longer throbbing, his hand felt the same as yesterday, and his abdomen was making him regret waking.

The chills had stopped at some point last night, and so had his body spasms, but he was still feeling off. He was actually craving the taste of alcohol. Not coffee, not breakfast, but a drink. Any drink, it didn't matter. He wanted desperately to forget the pain, to drown it all out, and wallow in his self-pity and misery until it all went away.

"Bobby, wake up," Alex said as she got on the bed and draped half her body over his. "Bobby-"

"…'m awake," he mumbled into the pillow.

"There's no water."

Rolling onto his back, he stared up at Alex as he asked in confusion as his head felt foggy and light, "What?"

"Water, Bobby, there is none."

Still not understanding, he said, "Did you buy water?"

Alex glared down at him as she said, "I meant running water."

Bobby groaned as he rolled back over and told her, "And I'm supposed to magically make it work. Call the landlord and tell him."

He felt her push him a little before swearing and grumbling as she left the room. It took his brain a minute longer to finally realize what she had told him. Bobby sat up and looked at the clock, seeing that it was after seven, and cursed. She couldn't have waited until he woke up to tell him that there was no running water in the house.

Getting out of bed, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants out of the bottom dresser drawer and pulled those on before leaving the bedroom. Walking into the bathroom, he turned on the faucet, hearing the pipes bang and strain to release water only for there to be none. "Fuck," he sighed as he turned it off and tried the shower.

"I already did that," Alex said from the doorway as she held his house phone out to him. "I don't know the landlord's number."

He took the phone and started dialing as he shuffled down the hallway. Going into the kitchen, he saw a pot full of coffee and a couple empty water bottles sitting besides the machine. "I love your creativity," he told her as he listened to the ringing as he tried to pour himself a cup.

Alex took the coffee pot out of his injured right hand and did it for him, saying, "There was no way I was going to deal with not getting a cup of coffee this morning."

Bobby took the cup, using his three good fingers on his right hand to hold it, and took a sip. When there was no answer on the other line, he finally hung up the phone. "It's Sunday…I'm not sure if he goes to church or not, but he's not answering. I'll be back," he told her as he unlocked the back door and stepped out into the very small entryway.

He went to his left and started up the stairs, still sipping on his cup of coffee. Getting to the landing, he pounded on the door and waited. A few seconds later, it opened and his neighbor, Victor, answered the door. He had shaving cream covering half his face and a razor in his right hand. "Guten Morgen, Victor. Uh, do you have running water?"

Victor, a short, thin man, was also very hung-strung; so when his face suddenly got red, Bobby barely flinched. "Nein!," he exclaimed 'no' before he started to go off so fast in German that he was unable to catch any of it.

Bobby held up his hand injured hand, thanking the man as he told him, "Danke, danke…machs gut," as he turned away, leaving the man still ranting and raving in his doorway. Going back down the stairs, he saw Alex waiting in the doorway at the bottom. "Victor doesn't have water either."

"How about the guys who live downstairs?" she asked as he eased by her into the kitchen.

"Ted and Andy? They're college kids. They won't be up until two." He picked the phone back up and re-dialed as Alex went into the living room.

Bobby heard the television come on as his frustration grew as there was still no answer. He hung up and then called information. "Yeah, uh…I need the number for the Brooklyn's Water Supply-"

"Bobby!"

He walked into the living room and saw Alex pointing at the morning news. He looked and read the headline as the news camera showed water gushing from a busted water pipe a couple of blocks over. "Never mind," he said into the phone before hanging up and tossing the phone onto the recliner.

"With all this new construction going on, I'm not surprised. We should all be glad it wasn't gas."

"Did the report say how long the water's going to be off?"

Alex shook her head. "Probably until later today or this evening. It's flooding Franklin Avenue, pretty soon it's going to be part of the East River."

Bobby stared at the live report and sighed in exhaustion. All he felt like doing was crawling back in bed and sleep. Or having a smoke, or a beer, or all three.

"Well, I was planning on going into work for a few hours today anyway. I'll just take along some clothes and use the showers in the locker room," Alex told him as she clicked off the TV.

There was no desire in him to go into work; granted, he was given the weekend off since he was still limited duty and riding a desk until who knows when, but he normally would have been working despite all that. He slumped against the entryway and stared down into the coffee. Sighing he shook his head as he went to take a sip of the coffee, "I hate this."

"Hate what?" she asked, causing him to glance up at her.

Bobby immediately looked away. The sympathy in Alex's eyes seemed to make it all that much more unbearable.

Alex stepped up to him; reaching out, she slid her arm around his waist, saying, "Come into work with me for a few hours. It'll take your mind off-"

He pulled away as he stepped back into the kitchen. Grabbing the pack of cigarettes off the counter, he went over to the table and sat down. In hopes of easing his irritation, and the pain that he was holding in, he lit one. He knew if he stayed home he would do absolutely nothing productive. Or, he might, while she was gone, go out and have a drink or two or three. He just might drink the whole damn bottle.

He felt Alex come up to him as her hands touched his face; her thumb caressed over the stubble on his jaw as said, "Bobby, you can't stay here alone today."

Jerking his head away from her touch, he rested his aching head on his left hand as he stared down into the coffee cup. Alex left the kitchen, leaving him alone to think things over. After he downed the cup of coffee and smoked the cigarette, he decided to go in.

* * *

><p><em><span>Major Case Squad <span>_

The warm water did wonders on his tensely sore body. He still wasn't a hundred percent; his body ached everywhere, his head wouldn't stop pounding, and every so often he would start to shake uncontrollability. It was mostly in his hands, but still, it was distressing and also irritating. On the drive into work, he broke out into a cold sweat again, making Alex almost turn around to take him back home.

At that point, he would have let her, but he waved her off and told her he'd be okay. She had made him take the bottle of Tylenol with him just in case. He took two with the coffee they had picked up on the way.

Heaving a sigh as the water started to run cold, he shut it off, and reached out the closed curtain to grab his towel. As he dried his face, he heard a couple of voices in the room. He stayed inside the shower stall, patting himself dry, until he heard the door open again and the people leave. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he stepped out and headed for this locker.

Rounding the corner of the roll of lockers, he looked up and froze. The door to his locker was partly open, the lock laid on the floor where it had fallen when it was cut off, and there was a foul smell emanating from inside. Stepping up to the locker, he had to cover his nose with his bare arm to keep from smelling it, as he used his foot to swing open the door. There was no visible evidence of anything being tampered with or done to his belongings, other than the smell. Grabbing his gym bag, he tossed it on the bench and that was when he saw the remains of a stink bomb lying on the bottom of the locker.

The clothes that he had worn into work and the suit that he had hanging up were certainly ruined by that smell; he didn't think that the cleaners would be able to get that stench out of the clothes. Slamming the door shut, his eyes caught sight of the front of the locker door. He hadn't noticed it before because of the door being partly opened, hiding the front from his sight.

Written on the front of it in black marker were the words 'You stink like a rat!' with the picture of a rat drawn in place of the word. Bobby stared at it for a long moment as he felt the pain ignite in his gut. His left hand shook and clenched as his jaw clamped shut. With as much restraint as he could manage, he turned away, picked up his gym bag, and went to change clothes away from the locker.

Luckily for him the smell hadn't penetrated the contents of the bag, leaving him with clothes to wear that didn't stink as he rounded the corner of the Major Case Squad dressed in a pair of black jeans, a black NYPD t-shirt, and his sneakers. There had been at least two men in the locker room, but he had only recognized one of their voices.

The squad room was nearly empty seeing how it was a Sunday morning, but a few detectives were there. Surprisingly enough Mike Logan, who had come in early like Alex to go over the missing ADA case, was there along with several others who were on-call that weekend. One of those detectives on-call was Andrews.

He was standing up near by his desk, phone held to his ear by his right hand, as he was talking to his partner, Detective Jacobs. Jacobs was the first to spot him but he was too late. Before anyone could do anything to stop him, Bobby grabbed Andrews by the back of the neck with his left hand at the same time he hooked his right arm from behind, locking it in place. He kicked Andrews' legs out from under him as he threw him down so hard on the desk it knocked the phone to the floor.

The room exploded around him as people frantically tried to pull him off the cop. He heard Alex's voice call out his name, trying to get him to stop, but it felt like his head was in a fog as he nearly growled into the cops ear as he told him barely above a whisper, "I know it was you, you piece of shit, and I'm tired of it. You leave me and my stuff alone or the next time something happens, I'll beat your fucking head in. You got it."

Andrews barely gave a nod into the desk. As he let go, Bobby felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his as he was yanked off the guy. He was nearly thrown onto another desk as files and chairs scattered around him as he tried to push whoever had him away.

"Damn it, Bobby, calm down!" Mike yelled into his ear as he kept pushing him further away.

Bobby saw Andrews slide down to the floor, holding his mouth and face in his hands. Blood leaked out through his fingers and down his hand as Jacobs and several others administered aid. Seeing the cop like that, hurt and bloody, sent a wave of satisfaction through him as he was shoved back into a pillar and held there. His breathing came in frantic gasps as his jaw clenched so tight he didn't think that he would be able to open it. His entire body trembled with rage as he felt like doing a lot more damage to the guy than he already had. He felt like destroying the whole damn squad room and everyone in it.

The pain he had felt in this abdomen was gone only to be replaced with a pain in his hand and in his head. His vision finally snapped back into focus, no longer tunneled vision on the object of his rage, as he blinked a few times. He noticed Mike standing almost directly in front of him for the first time. Mike was holding him in place against the pillar as he seethed. Taking in a deep breath, he turned his eyes to his partner and glared at him.

Mike glared right back, asking, "What in the hell's the matter with you?"

Bobby tried to work his jaw loose to be able to answer, but all he could manage to do was give a shake of his head as he shoved Mike.

"Bobby!" That was Alex; she was on the other side of him and she looked angry yet worried at the same time. And slightly disappointed, but more pissed off than anything.

Looking away from her and Mike, he glared back across the room and Andrews who was now on his feet. His lip was busted and bloody but he was relatively okay, nothing serious like broken bones or death. Andrews finally looked up and him, the anger in his eyes matching his own.

Jacobs had a hand on the cop's shoulder, talking to him down, as he kept glancing his way. At least he had the decency to appear apologetic. It could have been Jacobs in the locker room as well, but he hadn't been sure. Andrews voice was the only one he heard. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have stayed in the shower stall until they left.

"I want to know what's going on, right now," Alex demanded as she glared up at him. When he refused to answer, she turned to Andrews. "Why did he attack you?"

"Leave it alone," Bobby finally spoke; his voice sounded strained in his ears and it hurt to talk.

Alex wasn't paying him any attention as she asked again, "One of you is going to give me an answer." Looking right at Andrews, she said, "And Goren wouldn't attacked you if you didn't give him a reason."

"Alex!" his voice boomed off the walls, silencing the room and snapped her head around to look at him. Bobby was taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down but it wasn't working. Glaring hard at her, he managed to get out of his tight jaw, "I said to leave it alone. It's between me and him, not you. You're not the fucking boss here, and neither one of us has to answer to you!"

"Oh…shit," Logan muttered under his breath as he moved away.

Alex, arms crossed and eyes burning into his, looked like she was seconds away from shooting him. "What'd you think is going to happen when the captain finds out?"

"He's not going to find out, because no one's going to tell him," he snapped back at her before glaring over at Andrews. "Isn't that right?"

Andrews looked caught like a deer in the headlights as he looked around the room, and then back at him. He gave a slight nod. "Yeah," he said, "it was nothing."

Looking back down at Alex, Bobby saw her jaw work back-and-forth as she shook her head and walked away. He watched as she stalked down the hall and out of sight, probably to the woman's restroom, before turning his eyes back to Andrews. The other detective no longer looked angry, just confused and slightly appreciative.

Stepping up to Andrews, he saw the cop take a step back as he braced for a fight. Bobby felt Logan behind him as he saw Jacobs move to put himself between Andrews and himself. He took a quick glance at Jacobs before addressed Andrews, telling him in a quiet voice as he leaned in closer, "You better get my locker cleaned up before Deakins comes back…Yeah?"

Andrews swallowed hard as he gave another slight nod.

Bobby glared at him one more time before moving away, toward his desk. As he looked over his empty desk, he wondered why in the hell he decided to come in today anyway. He didn't want to be there, and it was obvious that no one wanted him there. He sat down hard in the chair as he tried to steady his breathing. He was still trembling with anger as he closed his eyes, took in a few deep breaths, and when he opened them he saw Mike leaning against the pillar in front of him.

Bobby tried to ignore him as he opened his drawer, pulled out his binder, and flipped it open. That was when it occurred to him that he had no work to do, well, nothing he could do in the squad room anyway.

Sighing, he pulled out a mechanical pencil and instead started to brainstorm over ideas. He still hadn't figured out what he was going to do about staying in the NYPD. Maybe he could stick it out with MCS and hope for the best, or he could transfer out to another precinct and go back to working homicide. Or…quit.

"Can we talk?"

"I don't want to talk."

"I think you do."

Bobby didn't look away from writing as he told Mike, "Too bad you're wrong." Mike reached out and flipped his binder shut onto his hand, causing him to jerk back and glare up at him. "Back _off_."

"C'mon, I'll buy you a decaf."

Standing up, Bobby grabbed his binder and stalked off to an empty conference room, shutting the door behind him. Sitting down at the table, he flipped his binder open and went back to mapping out all his possibilities and listing all the reasons not to stay at Major Case. He stared down at the list and wrote at the top: Mike Logan.

Looking out into the squad room, he saw Logan walking down the hallway, toward the backstairs. _Shit. _Getting up, he left his binder and all on the table in the conference room as he headed after Mike.

By the time he reached the stairs, Logan was already two flights up. "Mike!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the closed-off stairwell.

He heard the door up above him open as he jogged up the two flights right after his partner. Opening the door, he spotted Logan rounding the roll of lockers. Leaning against the door, he sighed and shook his head as he heard a faint curse and then a loud bang against a locker.

Pushing back through the door, he heard Logan call out his name as he headed up to the roof instead of back down to the squad room. That little move didn't fool Logan for a second as he stormed out into the cool air right after him.

He paced around the roof as he dug into his pants pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. Logan was pacing too, but into front of the door and his only way back into the building. Lighting the cigarette, he stared at Logan and saw the barely controlled anger in the man before he had to look away, toward the loud and intrusive noises of the vehicles roaring by on the interstate, coming and going off of the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Why didn't you tell me this was going on?" Logan demanded as he stalked up to him gave him a shove against his shoulders.

He stopped himself from stumbling backwards as he squared his body off and braced for another shove. Bobby glared at Logan as he took the cigarette out of his mouth with his injured hand, blowing the smoke between them as he told him, "Who appointed you my watch dog? You're not my keeper, Logan, and I don't have to tell you a damn thing."

Logan shoved him again; Bobby barely moved as his felt his good hand fisting against his leg. "I'm your partner, or have you forgotten that?"

"Yeah, I see how you're my partner," he said with a slight edge to his voice as he glared hard at Logan.

Logan didn't know how to take that as he stepped up to him, getting closer, as he asked accusingly, "What's that? You got something to say, say it."

The tension was broken as a cell phone's shrill pierced the silence between them. Bobby knew it wasn't his phone, his was in his pocket and on vibrate. And he didn't have to think too hard or long about who was trying to get a hold of Logan.

"You going to get that?"

Logan was still glaring at him as he took out his cell phone and looked at it.

"Yeah, I'm your partner, you should remember that the next time you and her have another '_talk_', right?"

Logan stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head, "You've lost your damn mind if you even think-"

"Fuck you, Mike," he told him as he shoved by him to get to the door, tossing his cigarette down as he walked.

"I fucking save your life and this is the thanks I get, a big 'fuck you Mike'."

"Yeah, well, maybe next time you won't try so hard," he muttered as he pulled the door open.

"Hey, Goren, what the hell's that supposed to mean? Bobby, don't walk away from me!" Logan yelled as he charge after him into the stairwell.

Bobby turned, snatched Logan up by his suit jacket using only his left hand, and shoved him into the corner of the wall. Logan was too stunned to react, only managing to get his hands out to push him away only after his back hit the wall.

Both staring hard at one another, neither one willing to back down as their anger mounted. Logan was the first to blink and look away as his jaw twitched. Bobby's trembling hand finally let go of Logan's jacket as he turned and headed back down to the eleventh floor.

Logan slowly followed.

As he pushed the door to the stairwell open, he spotted Alex searching around the hallway, glancing into interrogation rooms for them. When she heard the door open, she looked up and at seeing him, she tensed in anticipation, not in relief.

Walking right by her, he made his way to the break room as he felt the overwhelming urge to leave and get a drink pulse at his control. Shoving a dollar bill into the coke machine, he kept hitting the button over and over until a can of coke roll out. He downed half of it in one go and then bought another one. He finished the first one off and tossed the empty can into the recycling bin before heading across the floor to the conference room.

A few minutes later the door opened and in walked Alex and Logan. He watched as Logan placed files on the table between them as he sat in a chair. Alex lingered for a moment before coming around to the head of the table to sit down, also dropping files in front of her.

"Since we're all here we might as well go over everything we've got."

Bobby glanced up at her and then over at Logan, who was ignoring him, before going back to writing in his binder.

"Logan?"

There was a moment of silence before Logan cleared his throat, saying, "I received copies of their phone records but haven't been able to go through them thoroughly as of yet. Warrants are still pending for Gardner's office, but we should hear something tomorrow."

"I need a copy of the phone records," Bobby said, still not looking up as he held out his hand. When nothing was placed into it, he glanced up at Logan. He knew that Logan had at least four copies of the phone records; it was standard procedure to make copies of everything and for everyone involved in the case. There would be three copies for all of them and at least one more.

Logan finally rolled his eyes and took out a second copy for him.

Bobby took it and scanned through it as he said, "I also need a copy of the charity list from the other day. No one's given me a copy of it yet." He saw Alex shift through her files until she pulled out the list for him and handed it to him.

"We discovered that he's a benefactor for St. Luke's."

"I remember you mentioning that," he said off-handedly as he glanced over the charity list as well. "He could've been an alumni." Bobby glanced between the two of them and saw a spark in Logan's eyes. "You found something?"

Logan took out a computer print out and handed both him and Alex a copy while explaining, "I thought about that this morning. Gardner attended St. Luke's from '72 to '76, where he graduated with honors. He was also in the same graduating class as Guy Patterson."

Bobby looked over the photo copy of the old yearbook photos along with the entire class of 1976 photo. Logan had highlighted both of their names and circled their pictures. Another name caught his eye and when he looked, he confirmed that it was her. "Audrey Chambers."

"What about her?"

Looking up at Logan, he told him, "She's now Audrey Patterson, Guy's wife."

"It confirms that they know each other," Logan said as he marked the name on his copy of the photos.

"It does?" Bobby asked as he stared over at him. "How many people did you know in your graduating class?"

Logan sighed in irritation as he glanced up at him. "Doesn't mean anything; they still could've known each other. We need to get him in here and question him…"

"He didn't do it, Logan. Both his family and his lawyer confirms he was home-"

"He's still guilty for his other crimes, and he could've-"

"I don't think he is," Bobby finally snapped as he glared at Logan.

The silence that filled the room made him shift in his seat as he cleared his throat. He'd felt this tension before, it was right after he went to bat for John Tagman. Only this time, he was defending a suspected child molester.

Logan had a fury in his eyes at nearly, almost, made him look away but didn't. "You what?"

"I don't…He's not guilty, at least I don't think he is."

Pointing a figure at him, Logan said, "If you're doing this just to get to me-"

"Oh come off it, Mike! Not everything I do is to piss you off. I don't think he did it because I actually talked to him, I met him, his family…I read the files and looked at the evidence, which is pretty fucking slim if you ask me, and I believe him when he looked me in the eyes and said he didn't do it!"

"Five innocent kids said he did!" Logan snapped back as he slapped his hand on the table and shot up out of his chair.

Bobby stared up at Logan as he felt the urge to get up just to hit him. His leg bounced hard up-and-down under the table as he hands twisted the mechanical pencil so hard in his hand that it nearly snapped in two. Working his jaw to keep his anger in check, he looked over at Alex who'd been surprisingly quiet.

She was looking between the two of them, concern and a little fear in her eyes. When he looked at her, she locked eyes with him and shook her head. It was that same look she'd given him before, when she didn't agree with him over the Tagman case.

"Fine, you-" Bobby threw the pencil down and got up, shoving everything into his binder. "Neither one of you have the right to tell me I'm wrong when neither one of you've actually talked to the man. When neither one of you have looked at the evidence-"

"He was being indicted for a reason-" Logan interrupted.

"Yeah, the wrong one," he interrupted right back. "This was a media case from the very beginning. Who could resist a Catholic high school coach being accused of sexual misconduct? We see it everyday, all the time, and it's gotten to the point where society, the media, and now even cops are placing judgment before-"

"I'll believe a cop over that piece of shit any day," Logan shot back at him as he headed for the door. "Why in the hell can't you?"

Bobby pulled the door opened the door so hard it bounced off the wall before he turned back to Logan, saying, "Maybe because I've been screwed over by the same cops, pointing those same judgmental fingers!"

"That's enough," Alex snapped.

They both stand mere inches apart, glaring at one another, as Alex pushed back from the table. Bobby heard her coming up to them.

"What's going on with the two of you? First Andrews and now Logan; Bobby, you need to calm down and-"

"Tell her, Logan, go 'head, tell your _partner _what's going on," Bobby encouraged bitterly as he nodded to Alex. "Have another talk about me, at least I know now, right? I'm here for it, I give you permission…"

"Bobby, what-"

"You two deserve each other," he said before he turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>She watched as Bobby stalked over to his desk and grabbed his jacket before he left the squad room. Turning to Logan, she asked angrily, "What in the hell's going on, Mike?"<p>

"Why don't you tell me," Logan said right back. "I may not have known him that long but I know that this isn't normal. Granted, he never was normal, but this is scary."

Alex took a deep breath as she crossed her arms, closing her eyes.

"Let's go in here," Logan said as he ushered her back into the conference room before closing the door to give them some privacy.

"He stopped drinking," she said once the door was closed. "Last night he went through withdrawal, and he's still feeling the effects…"

Logan stilled as he glared down at her in fear and concern. "Why did he have to quit drinking? Was he having problems-"

"He hasn't gotten over the shooting-"

"Yeah, I got that part, and?"

Alex felt uncomfortable telling Logan the rest, so she didn't. "And that's it. PTSD from the shooting and now going through withdrawal, it's making him more angrier."

Logan looked worried as gave a nod, but his concern wasn't for the man who had stalked out, but for her. "Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine, he's-"

"He's probably driving you crazy. I mean it, Eames, are you okay? He hasn't done anything has he?"

Alex quickly shook her head before groaning in frustration. "I'm fine, Mike, I swear."

He gave a nod as he softly said, "Okay, sorry, it's that…I know how alcoholics can be, especially when they're coming down-"

"He's not an alcoholic, Mike," she bit out as she stared over at him, feeling regret for even telling Logan all this. However, Bobby needed help and he was pushing everyone who actually cared about him away. It was typical of people who were depressed, but who were also as angry as he was.

"Still, if he had to quit and he'd gone through withdrawals, that meant that he was close enough."

She had to stop defending Bobby, especially since what she was trying to defend was the lie. Alex nodded as she admitted that, yes, Bobby had been close and maybe he was still close because right now he could be sitting in a bar drinking, giving up on himself, instead of fighting for not only his own self but for them.

At that thought she went to walk by Mike but he stopped her with one simple sentence.

"They're harassing him."

Alex stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Looking up at Logan, she asked incredulously, "What?"

Logan turned and peered out into the squad room, toward Andrews. "It's probably been going on since he got back, but it was why he attacked Detective Andrews. I went up to the locker room, and they're calling him a rat, Eames. It was written in black marker over his locker."

"He needs to tell the Captain."

"He won't, and I don't blame him." Alex turned to him, nearly going off as Logan held up his hands, calming her down. "If he does take this to Deakins, it'll only make it worse and he would only be reinforcing the notion that he'll rat any good cop out."

"Harassing another cop doesn't make you a good one," she snapped back at him.

"And I agree, but it's not like Andrews, or anyone else that could be involved, are out there planting evidence or stealing drugs. Whether we like it or not, he's right, this is between them, and us, not the brass. It'll work itself out once Bobby proves that they can trust him again. He won't gain that trust back if he squeals to the Captain. I know you hate it, but sometimes we have to play the 'buddy-boy' system. If we don't, we won't be a cop for very long."

Alex sighed heavily and shook her head as her jaw clenched tight. She wanted to go up to Andrews and tell him off, wanted to tell all of them off, but Logan was right. She hated that he was right, but this was a completely different culture than other workplaces. This was cop culture, 'brothers in blue', and she knew from more personal experience than she could measure how it could be either a very good thing, or a very bad thing.

Her and Bobby had always worked so well together because they were both willing to not look the other way. They were both willing to go after a suspect no matter what uniform they wore, no matter if they wore a badge of not. Now because of his willingness to take down dirty cops, he was being targeted by all cops; good, bad, dirty, clean, it didn't matter. According to them, he took it too far by working with IA, and now this was the price for that work.

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"You and me both," Logan said as he looked down at her. "Now that we do know, we can be on the lookout for it."

Giving a nod, she turned back to the table and gathered her files up as she pulled out her cell phone to call Bobby. Even if he was drinking, she wanted to make sure he was okay.

* * *

><p><em><span>300 Block of West 26<span>__th __Street_

_Chelsea, Manhattan_

He walked outside of the fence line of the concrete park along 26th street with his injured hand stuffed into his jacket pocket. It was early afternoon and unseasonably warm with the high humidity and sun shining. There were several young children, probably around 8 or 9, playing on the slide and jungle gym. Over on the basketball court were the older kids, the teenagers, and a group of them were playing a game of three-on-three while a four others watched on from the sidelines. They were either on their cell phones, playing a portable play station game, or smoking and talking.

At the other end of the court was another teenager who was playing a game all by himself. The teen was tall, only a few inches shorter than him, with black hair cut short, dark eyes, and wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a University of Alabama, Crimson Tide, hooded sweatshirt. The kid looked like the All-American athlete, could've even passed for the captain of the basketball team, or Quarterback for the football team.

Bobby stood off to the side and watched as Caleb Cunningham shoot the ball around the three-point line. The kid never missed a shot until he got to the free throw line. The ball hit the rim and bounced right toward him.

He stuck his foot out to stop the ball, making it bounce up his leg and into his left hand. Looking up at Caleb he said, "You're good. Alabama fan, huh?"

Caleb looked him over for a second and then looked over at the other teens playing on the opposite end of the court. "Yea," he said with a shrug, and a southern accent.

Bobby gave a nod as he started to dribble the ball. "Roll tide, right," he said with a smirk as he toss the ball over to the teen.

That got a soft smile from the guy. Caleb took him in again, this time giving him more thought, before asking, "You wanna play?"

Bobby glanced at the teen, as if he didn't know if he should or not, before he shook his head. "Can't," he told him as he pulled out his injured hand from his pocket. "But I'll spot you, if you want?"

Caleb smiled a little as he gave a nod, "Alright," he said as he took a shot toward the basket.

Bobby caught the ball as it dropped through the hoop with his left before tossing it back to the teen, asking, "What's your name?"

The teen dribbled the ball outside the three-point line and took another shot toward the hoop. "Caleb."

Bobby smiled a little as he caught the ball again and threw it to him. "Bobby."

Over the course of an hour, they shot the ball around and talked. Bobby even took a few one-handed shots at the basket, and he actually made a couple of them but not too many. Caleb would laugh at him every time he attempted a shot only for it to be slightly off point. He didn't mind, as long as the kid kept answering his questions.

"Where in Alabama are you from?" Bobby asked as he dribbled the ball around before taking a shot at the basket. It hit the backboard and then bounced off the hoop.

Caleb chased after the runaway ball, picking it up before it ended up in under the jungle gym. As he bounced it back over to the court, he told him, "Mobile."

"And you don't want to go to Auburn?" he asked as he pointed toward his sweater.

Caleb shrugged as he explained, "My older brother went to UA to play football for 'em. He liked it there; we've always been big fans."

Bobby nodded as he moved under the goal as Caleb took a shot. It sailed through the hoop and into his arms. "I know what that's like. I have an older brother too."

"Yeah?" Caleb asked as he caught the ball he'd thrown at him with a slight chuckle.

"Where is he now, your brother?"

Caleb ignored that question as he started dribbling the ball around the court. Then he stopped suddenly and shot it up toward the hoop.

Bobby didn't ask about his brother again. Instead, he asked, "How long have you been here?"

"About…since June. I play for St. Luke's," Caleb told him as he caught the ball and then swirled it on his finger. "You from here?"

"I'm from Brooklyn, yeah."

"Never been over there yet. My mom doesn't like for me to go too far from home, she says it ain't safe."

"What does your father say?" he asked as Caleb bounced it and then took a shot. The ball hit the rim and bounced away.

Caleb watched as it rolled along the ground toward the fence. "Nothin'," he said as he started to walk over to get the ball. "My dad died when I was a kid." He grabbed the ball and tossed it over to him. "I'm getting tired."

Bobby mimicked Caleb's earlier move by swirling the ball on his finger, causing the teen to chuckle as he grabbed it back from him. "I would like to play you sometime, after my hand heals."

Caleb chuckled lightly as he looked over at him. "Sounds like fun. I had a good time just doing this."

Giving a nod, he said, "Yeah, so did I." Bobby checked his watch as he told him, "I don't know about you, but I'm thirsty."

Caleb looked as if he didn't want him to go.

Bobby watched him as he glanced around with a reluctant look on his face as he asked, "What is it?"

"I was just thinkin', since you're thirsty, you could walk with me back home. I don't live far."

Bobby studied the teenage boy as he asked him that. He took a little while to answer just to see if Caleb would say anything else. He did.

"It's just that these guys around here, they don't like me much. I've been havin' to fight them off since I moved up here. If you walked with me, maybe they'd leave me alone."

Looking around the playground and the street, Bobby said, "Yeah, okay. Where'd you live?"

Caleb pointed down the street as he said, "That way."

Bobby glanced at the kid before giving a nod. As they walked along the sidewalk, Caleb kept bouncing the ball the whole way. "So, those other kids back there bully you?"

Caleb gave a shrug as he told him, "Sometimes, but I fight 'em off. It don' bother me none. I used to get into fights all the time back home too. These guys here, they think I'm some farm boy. I've never been on no farm; Mobile's a sea port city. Nothing like here, but it's not farmland either."

"Yeah, I've been there before, during Mardi Gras. You know, most people think that New Orleans is the birthplace of it, but it's actually Mobile."

Caleb smiled at that, saying, "I miss the carnivals. They're a lot of fun."

"It must be hard, moving to a new place…not having any friends," Bobby said as Caleb turned a corner, heading toward an apartment building.

"I get by. There's a few guys at school I get along with."

Bobby noticed that Caleb's accent wasn't too strong; his voice was very calm, and he was very polite. The word 'gentleman' came to mind as he asked, "No girlfriend?"

At that, Caleb nearly blushed red as he shook his head. "It's this one," he told him as he pointed to the building they were approaching.

They headed down the sidewalk and up to the door. As he opened it, Caleb told him, "It's okay, my mom's not home. She volunteers on Sunday's at the church."

Bobby followed the boy up two flights and then down the hallway. As they approached the door, Caleb pulled out a key that was on a chain around his neck that he used to unlock the door. It was apartment 219, at the very end of the hallway.

Once inside, he eased the door close but didn't shut it all the way as he looked around. It was a nice, small two bedroom with a balcony that overlooked the courtyard. There was some clutter but it wasn't dirty, just lived in.

Caleb tossed the basketball on the couch as he passed it to go into the kitchen. "What would you like, Bobby? There's Gatorade, water, my mom's Sunday beer?"

Bobby scratched his head as he told him, "Water's fine, thanks."

Caleb grabbed him a bottle of water and himself a Gatorade bottle. "Catch!" he yelled as he acted like he was going to toss it to him but didn't.

Bobby flinched a little, thinking he was going to throw it but when he didn't, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"You thought I was goin' to hit you with it?" Caleb said with a laugh as he handed it out for him. "I won't do that until you have two hands."

Bobby took the bottle as he thought about the implication of what Caleb had said. The teenager was expecting him to be around when his hand healed, which could be weeks. From the playing around, and all the things Caleb had told him, it wasn't lost on Bobby that the boy was already treating him like he was his friend. An instant best friend.

It didn't seem to disturb the 17-year-old at all that he was a grown man. There was no unease or apprehension, no thought that he was weird for wanting to hangout with a boy his age, and no fear of letting him into his home with no other adults around.

"It's just you and your mom?"

"Yep. She's a nurse, works nights so I'm here mostly all by myself. I hardly see her."

And he didn't care to inform him that he was alone a lot of the time. Bobby took a sip of the water as he worked out in his head the pathology of Caleb Cunningham. It wasn't lost on him how much the kid reminded him of himself when he was that age. Desperate for attention, for a father-figure to teach him everything that he didn't know. Being alone, and feeling lonely, with hardly any friends and constantly getting into fights with the other boys at school, and around his neighborhood, and even hanging out with guys older than him.

However, despite the similarities, there were also a few keys differences. It was those differences that was making his head hurt as he tried to figure this boy out.

"Hey, Bobby, wanna see my room?"

At the eager and excited look in Caleb's eyes, Bobby started to feel slightly uncomfortable. He really did need to leave and he also wanted to see how the kid would react to him declining the offer. "I would, but not today, thanks. I have to go."

Caleb had that look of not wanting him to go again, but he also looked uncertain as he asked, "Ok then. Some other time?"

Bobby tried for a friendly smile as he said, "Sure."

Caleb seemed to relax at that before saying, "I can give you my cell-"

"I don't have a cell phone," Bobby lied to the kid, but then he told him, "We'll met again, at the basketball court."

"Alright. See ya later, Bobby," Caleb told him as he walked over to the door to show him out.

As he headed down the hallway, Bobby glanced back and saw Caleb standing in the doorway watching him. He got to the stairwell and started down with the growing craving for a drink. His hand shook as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he exited the building.

* * *

><p><em><span>Major Case Squad<span>_

"Still no word?"

Alex glared over at Logan as she listened to the ringing go to voicemail.

"_You've reached Robert Goren, leave a message…_"

She sighed and flipped the cell shut before it beeped into her ear for the second time that afternoon. It had been hours since she last heard from him, not since he stalked away and then left.

Alex knew that dealing with him while he was suffering with not only his PTSD but his withdrawal was going to be difficult, but for him to go off like that in the middle of the squad room, and then to get into it with Mike, it had all been too much. And now he was MIA and she had no idea what to do.

"I bet he's back off the wagon," Logan told her as he dropped a file down on her desk. "Want me to try to track him down?"

Alex sighed heavily as she smiled up at him, "No, it's fine." Even though it wasn't. She had spent last night on the bathroom floor with that jackass and if he was back to drinking again, already, then she was glad she decided to move out.

She had her laptop up and on the screen was a website for apartments for rent in Rockaway. A few looked promising, and were actually cheaper than the last one she had lived in. They were further away from the beach, but she didn't care about that. It only meant that her morning run would be longer to the beach and back.

"You're moving out already?" Logan asked as he looked over her shoulder. "Does he know about it?"

"We both agreed it would be for the best."

"Isn't that like going backwards in the relationship?"

"Right now, any direction in this relationship would be progress. W're conflicting way too much living together. We're driving each other crazy. According to him, I'm suffocating him and he doesn't feel like his home is his home anymore. And me, well, I'm just getting seriously annoyed and frustrated with him. We both need the space."

Logan chuckled as she told him that. "But isn't that the whole part of it, the learning how to live with one another."

"Logan, believe me when I tell you that now is not the time to try and live with that man. Besides, it's not like I'm moving in a week like I did last time. It's probably going to take me at least a month, so it's not like I'm just leaving out from under him. I'm still going to be there, and we're once again working in the same squad so I'm going to see him every day," she explained as she printed out the webpage of the apartment and several others that she wanted to check out. "It'll be like it was before, and that's not a bad thing. Bobby's just not the kind-of guy that can live with someone day-in, day-out for the rest of his life. I'm glad I realized that now before it was too late."

"And you're happy with all this?"

Alex took a moment to fully assess how she felt. Giving a nod, she said, "Yes, I am. I'm actually a little surprised, but I'm happy."

Logan smiled a little, saying, "Okay. As long as you're happy, I know I don't have to be your punching bag here at work."

She rolled her eyes but gave a laugh as she headed over to the printer and grabbed the sheets she had printed off. "Now, if we've got nothing for the rest of the day, I'll be apartment hunting."

"Nah, we don't have anything. We can go over the tedious phone records on our own at home or tomorrow."

Alex gave a wave bye to Logan before she slipped on her coat and grabbed her purse out from the bottom drawer of her desk. The very second she hit the button for the elevator, her cell went off. Pulling it out, she wasn't expecting the number. It was her brother. "Hey, Junior, what-"

"You got a body."

She stepped away from the elevator as she headed around the corner toward the squad room. "Who?"

"There's no wallet but we're certain it's him…that missing ADA."

Alex went right up to Logan and when he looked up at her from his desk, told him, "They found Gardner."

* * *

><p><em><span>New York Public Library<span>_

Finding an empty cubicle in the back of the fifth floor, he dropped the books on the table as he pulled out the chair with his foot. Sitting down, he unzipped his jacket, slung it over the back of the chair, before opening his binder. He took out his mechanical pencil then used the same hand to grab a book.

As he flipped through the pages of case studies, criminal profiles and counter references to psychological mentalities, he was working his way through a reasonable rough draft of his profile on Caleb Cunningham. He had phoned his old high school in Mobile, Alabama but since it was Sunday, he had to leave a message. He also tried calling the teen's mother only to find the only phone number listed was the apartment number, with was unlisted in the phone book. So was the address, which got him to wondering if they were trying to hide from something or someone.

He would have to wait until he got home or to work the next day to research the family on the police database. His initial, and very brief, search of the world-wide web, uncovered plenty of social networking sites, images, and newspaper clippings, but unless he wanted to go through each page and image for hours, trying to find, if any belonged, to his suspect then he had nothing. He would also do that at home while relaxing on his couch, not in the library.

With not knowing the brother or father's name, he was unable to get anything from that end either. So, he focused solely on what he had learned from Caleb so far. His family history, his attitude, his behavior, what he knew of his issues in school and from what Coach Patterson had told him, along with his own thoughts about the teen lying about the sexual abuse.

There wasn't much he could prove yet, only speculate, as to his pathology. What he did know was that Caleb was overly-sensitive, friendly to older men, father-figures, as they instantly become a friend. That Caleb has, or had, an older brother…

Bobby thought about that piece of information before putting a question mark next to it. The brother, seeing how Caleb favors men, could very well be someone unrelated to him. That line of thought had him thinking back to what Patterson had told him. That Caleb had accused him of being his friend in a fit of anger after the coach had confronted him about his grades. So it wasn't too far of a stretch to think that maybe Caleb saw another man, a virtual stranger, as an older brother.

If that was true, then his over-sensitivity could lead to obsession and obsessive behaviors. Caleb's mother worked nights, which meant she probably slept most of the day, always leaving the teen alone and on his own.

Bobby rubbed at his eyes as his thoughts drifted darker than the profile should have allowed it to drift. There was no evidence of stalking, or possessiveness, but his mind was drift that way, conjuring up thoughts that as of now were too far of a stretch. Getting his mind back on track, he wrote down the word 'bullied' followed by consequences of such bullying. Feeling like an outcast, unwanted and undesired, depressed, or excessive anger…suicidal…

He stared down at his binder and the words he had written as he felt the cold sweat coat the back of his neck. Closing his eyes, he tried to push those thoughts away. The images that had filled his head should have disturbed him, but they didn't. He could see, and feel, the desire to let it all go. Of not being able to take it anymore…

Of Lance Sullivan sitting in the chair in his house on Staten Island, dressed as sharp as a rookie in his dress uniform, and then the nickel-plated pistol being raised to his head. The burnt out car under the overpass, and Gardner, along with his doctor, standing on the edge staring down into the dark water.

It was so fucking easy to die, and so damn hard to stay living.

He felt the cell phone buzz in his pocket, breaking him from his thoughts. Pulling it out, he saw it was Alex and sighed. He wanted to ignore it, but when he saw the time he figured he had worried her enough for one day. "Yeah?"

"They found him."

Sitting up straight in his chair, he listened to her words as a faint ringing echoed in his head.

* * *

><p><em><span>12<span>__th__ Avenue & West 135__th__ Street_

_Manhattanville, Manhattan_

He was getting tired of finding things, people and cars, under overpasses. Roaring above him was a combination of cars, trucks, and subway train as police lights swirled around the old bricks and pavement of bridges and freeways at hung over them. He blew into the cold latex glove as he ducked under the crime scene tape that Officer Junior Eames was in charge of.

Looking to Alex's brother, he gave a brief nod as he walked by him and headed to where the M.E. was hunched over. He'd spotted Alex talking on her cell phone, most likely to one of the brass, or Deakins, but Logan was no where to be seen as of yet.

Rodgers was testing liver temp as he circled the body and kneeled across from her. Upon first glance, he knew for certain that ADA Gardner didn't commit suicide. He also didn't die from a drug overdose like the needle in his arm wanted the cops to think. Turning his head, he spotted the entry point in the back of the skull, under the hair.

"The absence of blood had me thinking overdose…for a millisecond."

"You know," Bobby said as he turned the head back and looked up at Dr. Rodgers. "Just because someone was shot, doesn't mean there's always blood. The gun was pressed right up against the skull, and it's a very small entry, almost nail size…not a bullet…" he thought as he smiled a little. "I'm guessing something with air…BB gun, maybe?"

"Your suspect is a ten year old?"

He glanced around the dark underpass, saying, "Or weapon of opportunity. Whoever shot him, might not have initially intended to kill. The gun, if it looked real enough, could've been a scare tactic…until things got out of hand."

"…that's right," Junior was saying to someone as he walked closer. "I was the first to respond. When I got here, I saw the body propped up against the side of the wall, in the corner here, half covered with that blanket."

Bobby glanced behind him and saw the dark corner at the edge of the wall and fence-line, and the blanket. At spotting a CSU tech taking pictures of the area, he told her, "Make sure you get pictures of that corner, and the blanket before bagging it."

The tech gave him a look, like he shouldn't be telling her how to do her job, before heading over to the corner.

"I think she likes you," Rodgers teased as she took out the body thermometer, telling him, "Good news is that he's been dead awhile, bad news is that he's been dead awhile."

"How long is awhile?"

"He was reported missing Wednesday?" When he gave a curt nod, she said, "Then probably Wednesday. I won't know more until I cut him open."

Sighing he looked over the body, picking up his hands and taking a sniff of each. Then he checked the pockets and found again, nothing. The suit, despite from being rumpled, was a nice suit. Checking the label, he saw that it was a Brooks Brothers, his shoes were Italian leather, and expensive, his watch…

"Uh, he wasn't here long. Who called 9-1-1?" he asked Junior as he stood.

"Anonymous," Junior told him before continuing, "I already asked dispatch to get a copy to Major Case, to Alex."

"What's that place?" Bobby asked as he pointed to the building that ran the part of the length of the bridge. The staircase that led up to the door exited right under the overpass.

"A bar, called the Bucket Lounge," Logan said from the top of the stairs. As he started down, he said, "I already asked and no one saw or heard a thing. I'm assuming whoever dumped him was the one to call the cops."

Bobby glanced up at Logan and gave a brief nod. Alex was still on the phone and from the look on her face, it was a rough call. She was leaning on a patrol car, hand on her head, and staring intently at the pavement with a tight frown. Pulling off his one glove, he tossed it into a biohazard bag as he walked over to her.

"I know, Chief. We had no-" she sighed and scuffed her boots over the ground, still staring down.

When he snatched the phone out of her hand, she jerked up and gapped at him as he held up a hand and put the phone to his own ear. "Chief?"

There was a sudden pause before Chief Yarrow said, "Goren? Put your partner back on the phone."

"I, uh, I can't do that, sir," he told him as he walked away, leaving Alex staring after him. Bobby wasn't sure why he had done that, but he couldn't let her suddenly become the bearer or this case all because Deakins was out until tomorrow. "Listen, sir, I don't know what Detective Eames have been able to tell you, but the M.E. has placed time of death for Wednesday, possibly Tuesday evening. Now, we get an anonymous call to dispatch, telling us where to find the body…I looked it over, he hardly has anything on him, not even a scratch. No exposure to the elements and he's still in possession of his three thousand dollar watch, Italian leather shoes, easily five grand, and his Brooks Brothers suit…"

"He was dumped recently and then the phone call was placed."

Bobby gave a nod into the phone as he told the Chief, "Exactly. There was nothing we could've done, sir. There was no body to find, no sloppy police work on this one…He was kept, we don't know why but we'll find out."

"Okay, and what is this I'm hearing about a needle?"

Sighing, he rubbed his head as he told him, "It's nothing, put there to mislead us. The ADA wasn't using. He was shot in the back of the head…I uh, I can't tell you anymore than that. The M.E.'s taking him to 1PP now. When we know more, you'll know."

There was another moment of silence before the Chief told him, "I'll inform your Captain, Detective. And next time, just ask Eames to put you on the phone."

Smirking a little, he turned back around and headed over to Alex who was talking to Logan. "Will do, sir. Have a good night."

"Too late for that one, Goren," the Chief told him before hanging up.

Bobby flipped the phone shut and handed it back to Alex. "Sorry, but you looked like you wanted to get off the phone with him."

"He was trying-"

"I know," he said as he gave her a sincere look. "We didn't fuck this up. All the evidence suggested he was in the river, possible suicide. Not being driven around in a car until he was dumped. Whoever did this, wanted us to spin our wheels, and they succeeded, but you know what? They're the ones who fucked up, and we'll get them."

"How'd you know there's more than one culprit?"

Bobby took a glance at Logan before looking back at Alex. He saw, finally, a twinkle in her eye as he said, "No drag marks at the apartment or here. He wasn't just dumped, he was positioned…someone carried him and Gardner's a big guy, tall…I can't see one guy being able to carry him. Plus, for a first timer, there was too much planning, lack of evidence…"

"We need to find out what Gardner did during his work days when he wasn't working."

Giving a nod, he gestured for them to leave as he ducked back under the crime scene tape and left the canvassing to the CSI's.

"So, where were you?"

Bobby looked over at Alex as he walked over to his car while she headed toward the department issued SUV. "Library, working on my profile of Caleb Cunningham."

Alex held up a finger to Logan before coming up to him as he opened the driver door. "Bobby, about that-"

"Alex, you don't have to always agree with me. You don't like it, my opinion, you want me to leave it alone…I get that, okay. I really wasn't expecting you to blindly follow me around anyway." Bobby slid into the driver's seat and went to shut the door when she stopped him.

"Will you let me speak? Bobby, you were right. We didn't talk to him, we didn't talk to his family, and if you think he didn't do it, I'll back you on it."

Bobby stared up at her and then glanced over where Logan was leaning against the SUV, waiting for her. "Logan's having problems with this one. I think…I think some personal issues might be clouding his judgment."

Alex furrowed her head in confusion as she looked over at Logan. "I've noticed, but personal issues?"

He wasn't certain yet, but he trusted his gut more than anything. And his gut was telling him that this was hitting too-close for Mike. Bobby didn't want it to be true, he never wanted to think of something like that happening to anyone, yet alone Logan, but it would explain a lot of things. "Just…watch him, all right? I can't…I won't…" he stopped as he looked up at her. "I might not be here long enough to do it myself."

Alex stared down at him, the look of confusion never going away as he shut the door and started to car.

TBC..

P.S. Oh, come on, me? A simple suicide? Never.


	6. Monday, February 14th, 2005 pt1

A/N: I always appreciate the reviews! They're so informative. Again, I usually don't single out reviewers (because you're all so great!), but rindy713, I'm so glad you picked up that Bobby was still working, or maybe the right word is "acting", like he had in the previous story. I think that what happened to him on that island is still lingering, and effecting him, especially with Logan around; I would think that it would be hard for him to suddenly shake himself out of it without Eames' constant influence as his partner.

More things to ponder! Enjoy.

* * *

><p><em><span>3<span>__rd__ Street Diner_

_Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

"I'm not going to apologize."

"How'd-"

Bobby stared over at her as he twisted the coffee cup between the three fingers on his right hand. "You have that look, like you're waiting on me to say something. The only thing I can think of that'll take precedence is an apology."

Alex sighed and picked up her glass of orange juice and took a sip. "Okay, and why aren't you apologizing?"

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"Bobby, you didn't tell me that you were being harassed at work."

"That's because you didn't need to know," he said as he took his fork into his left hand and started to cut up his fried egg and shoving the pieces into his mouth. "It was between me and him."

"But-"

"Alex," he groaned in frustration. Taking a sip of the coffee, he downed his food before saying, "If I had told you the first day it happened, what would you have done? You would have taken it to the Captain, and attacked Andrews yourself. I don't _need_ that; I don't need you to fight my battles for me. I'm not a child; I'm a grown man."

"I wasn't trying to fight your fight."

"Yes, you were."

Alex shook her head at him but he saw the amusement twinkle in her eye as she dug into her Belgian waffle with strawberry topping. "I just don't understand what the big deal was. I've defended you before."

Bobby closed his eyes and rubbed at his head. "Before? Before when? Alex, when you were my partner that was different, and before you were only defending my ideas, my, uh, my way of working." He shook his head as he tried to figure out how to explain it. "This isn't the same as that. The dynamics have now changed. You aren't my _partner_, you're my _girlfriend_, and it wasn't about work, or defending my way of thinking…It was about _me_. It was about pride, ah-about asserting myself back into that squad room, and about letting everyone know that-that I'm not a rat and that I'm not going to take their shit."

"And I was trying to help."

"But you weren't," he snapped before he could stop himself. Taking a breath, and trying to calm down, he said, "I know that you think you were, but you weren't." At seeing the pained expression on her face, he had to look away. When he got himself back under control, he tried to explain what it was like for him; how she made him feel when she interfered. "How inadequate do you think it makes me feel to see you defending me when I'm the one that's supposed to be defending myself? I mean, I'm already trying to find steady ground as is, and gain some of my confidence back, and the last thing I need is for you to take my balls away. And that's what it felt like you were doing when you went after Andrews for me; when you were…_demanding,_ for him, or me, to tell you what was going on…Neither one of us saw you as a cop wanting answers. You were my girlfriend interfering in our business; in something that was between us."

She studied him for a long moment, and now she was the one that was looking apologetic. "Bobby, I wasn't trying to make you feel like a man who couldn't fight his own fight, but I still don't like it that you didn't tell me. It reinforced your lack of trust-"

"This had nothing to do with trust," Bobby said, interrupting her as he felt the spark of guilt at her words. He did trust her, he knew that; however, right then in his cynically depressed mind, it was hard to fully believe it. "Now that I'm back at Major Case, you're going to have to realize that our relationship in that room has completely changed. It used to be that we were only partners and that was what every cop in that squad viewed us as. Now…now I doubt that they see us as anything other than being in a relationship. We're no longer just two cops to them, we're a couple, and you have to keep that in mind when you want to start yelling at me in front of everyone. Before, it used to be if we fought, it was, you know, 'Oh, Goren must have crossed the line on a case' or something. Now, when we fight in that room, it'll be 'What? Did they not have sex last night? Is Alex holding out on him?' and any other sexual joke you can think of."

At that hour they should have either been at home in bed or working a scene somewhere, not hunkered down in the little streetcar diner that was a sort-of hidden treasure in the Brooklyn neighborhood discussing workplace politics.

Alex regard him in confusion and apprehension at what he had just told her. He realized that she hadn't taken any of that into consideration since he'd come back to Major Case, but he did because he had to. He no longer viewed Alex as his partner, he couldn't because she wasn't. Yeah, at work she was still a cop, but now she was also his girlfriend. Alex viewed him the same, a cop but also her boyfriend, but she had yet to consider what that meant in the eyes of everyone else in that squad room.

He was right in what he had said. They weren't Goren and Eames to the other cops anymore; they were Bobby and Alex, and that was a big difference. No matter how hard they tried to ignore it, or not make it so, their relationship had changed everything and it was time that they both accepted that. He already had, but Alex hadn't even begun to breach the subject.

They sat in comfortable silence for awhile as they both thought about what he said while eating their food. Playing softly through the speakers was 'Shelter from the Storm' by Bob Dylan and it definitely seemed to set the mood. He was halfway through his meal, which consisted of fried eggs, bacon, hash browns, a bowl of mixed fruit, and buttered toast when Alex spoke again.

"You know what I just realized?"

"Hum?" was his muffled question around a forkful of harsh browns and ketchup.

"It's Valentine's Day."

Swallowing hard, Bobby glanced up at her as the date hit him. "Oh…that's right."

Alex smirked over at him as she popped a couple of fresh strawberries into her mouth. "So?"

He raised a brow at her as he shrugged, saying, "Yeah, so," as he took a drink of the coffee. It was lukewarm and almost gone; picking up the pot that was left on the table, he added more coffee to the cup.

The waitress usually took the pot back with her but left it for him when he had asked. Besides, there was another full pot brewed and the place was nearly empty. Sitting at the counter were two men, and in the very back booth was a young couple, college aged, who looked and sounded like they just came from the bar across the street.

Alex rolled her eyes and he nearly smiled at her irritation.

"Why is it always the guy that has to do something? You could take me out," Bobby teased as he used his fork to dish his last fried egg onto a piece of toast. He folded it in half, making a sandwich, and then took a hefty bite as Alex glared at him.

"I already promised you a striptease," she countered, causing him to nearly choke on his food when the waitress paused next to the table and blushed a bright red. Alex grinned at him before she addressed the waitress, asking, "Can I get a to-go cup for the coffee, please?"

"Sure, it'll be right up," the young woman said as she tried to find her amusement before walking away.

Bobby watched as the waitress left before narrowing his eyes at Alex. She mimicked his look until he felt a twist of a smile pull at his lips. "Don't worry, I've got it covered," he said as he picked up a strip of bacon and ate it.

"Oh, you do? And what are our plans?"

"No," he said as he shook his finger. "I'm not telling. It's a surprise."

Alex smirked as she said, "That's man talk for 'Oh my God I forgot'."

Bobby laughed as he went back to eating. Truth was, she was right. He had forgotten, and that was man talk for not having anything planned. It gave him time to figure one out. He did know that he was going to wait until tomorrow to do something special. It was Monday after all, and Valentine's Day, so places were going to be packed.

The waitress returned with a tall to-go cup and lid. Bobby picked up the coffee pot and poured her a cup as he asked, "Are we still going to the Tainted Lady for that fashion show tonight?"

"You can't drink," she reminded him, causing him to frown over at her. "Where's the sugar?"

The sugar was on his side of the table so he picked it up and handed it to her as he said, "I said I needed to stop my excessive drinking, not stop altogether."

Alex poured some sugar into her coffee as she stared over at him. "If you start drinking again so soon, you might slip back into old habits."

Bobby took the glass container of sugar back from her as he thought about that. "Okay," he said, appeasing to her, "I don't have to drink, or…I can only have one, and the rest of the time have the non-alcoholic kind."

"Or," she said, countering him again, "You can have the non-alcoholic kind the entire time."

They stared at one another for a brief moment and when Bobby realized she wasn't going to give-in, he sighed and gave a nod. "Fine."

Smiling triumphantly, Alex said, "And since you're not acting like an angry jackass over it, I just might let you have some of this tonight."

Bobby would have smiled if the waitress again hadn't been standing right next to the table.

"I'm just going to stay away," the woman said as she sat the check down. "If you need anything else, give a wave."

He watched as the embarrassed young woman went back over to the counter before he grinned over at Alex. "I'm going to have to tip her half the check to make up for this."

"You tip half the check anyway," she said as she went to grab for it.

Bobby was quicker as he snatched the check up before she barely reached across the table. "You haven't learned by now that you don't pay."

"I could mention all the things _you_ haven't learned yet, but it's only a short ten minute drive back to 1PP."

Bobby chuckled at her as he went back to finishing off his plate. Then he downed the rest of his coffee and reached in his pocket for his money clip. The check was for twelve dollars and change, but two, or even six, dollars wasn't nearly enough tip for his liking. He paid the twelve and change and then tossed another ten on the table as he looked over at Alex. "This could be our song."

She frowned at him as she asked, "You're still thinking about that? I asked you that question on Christmas."

He gave a shrug as he said, "So, it's not like I don't think about things. I may be a little slow with this relationship stuff but that doesn't mean that every time I hear a song I'm not thinking if it could be ours. This is the first time I heard this one since Christmas."

Alex was giving him a funny look before saying, "Sometimes I really wonder how your mind works."

"Believe me, you _don't_ want to know. I think that no woman should ever really, truly know how a man thinks. If you did, you probably wouldn't like us very much."

Alex chuckled as she grabbed up her purse and coat as she listened to the song playing. "And Bob Dylan? Bobby, do you know how many couples have 'Shelter from the Storm' as their song? It's so typical."

He stared at her in confusion, and frustration, as he said, "How many couples does it actually pertain to? And so what if it's typical?" he asked as he got up and slid his jacket on. He was still wearing the NYPD t-shirt and jeans, and his brown suede jacket instead of his overcoat.

"I'll think about it." Alex slid her coat over her shoulders. "I wished everyone tipped the way you do," she told him as she looked down at the money he'd thrown on the table as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

"Anyone who takes a job that pays only three bucks an hour, and having to deal with rude customers all day and night, deserves more than a fifteen percent tip. Plus, she has a kid and taking college classes."

Alex gave him a look and then glanced over at the young woman. "I'm a cop too, but how did you know that?"

Bobby stopped with his hand on the door as he smiled a little, "I asked her the last time I was in here. C'mon, Alex, I'm good, but I'm not psychic."

She pushed him through the door and out into the cold night air. He smiled at her playfulness as he wrapped his right arm around her shoulders and leant down to give her a kiss on her head. The air was blowing hard, whipping the sharp cold air around the buildings and into their faces.

After they had left the crime-scene where ADA Gardner was discovered, he had followed her and Logan back to 1PP where they filled out all the necessary paperwork and computer logs before waiting around for the autopsy to be completed. During the wait, Alex had gone up to the locker room and bunked out for a few hours while he stayed at his desk review the case file and phone records with Logan.

Then by eleven o'clock and still no word from Rodgers, they decided to go and grab something to eat that wasn't from a vending machine. Logan had went his separate way, leaving the two of them alone as they took the SUV across the bridge and to the diner.

"Okay."

Looking down at her, he asked, "Okay?"

Alex looked up at him, saying, "It could be our song, for now."

Smiling slightly down at her, he teased, "Great, now all I need is to find the perfect song for you to strip to."

Alex was quick as she spun out of his arm and before he could do anything to stop her, had his right arm pinned up against his back.

"Ow-ow-ow!" he groaned out, trying to sound hurt when in fact he was trying not to start laughing. Turning around, he felt her drop her hands as he wrapped his right arm around her waist while pushing her back into the entryway of the building behind them. "You're always trying to hurt me," he teased before his lips pressed lightly into hers.

"Hm-hum," Alex moaned against his lips before saying between kisses, "That's because I know you like it rough."

Groaning at her words, and at the sudden tightness in his jeans, he deepened the kiss as he slipped his tongue into her warm mouth. He felt a hand caress along his neck, another on the side of his face, as she moaned and shivered against him. His hand slipped inside her jacket to run along her back, down to her hip and thigh.

"Oh my God you guys, get a room."

Bobby pulled away and glanced over his shoulder as he saw the waitress, who had come outside for a smoke break, shake her head and walk away. Looking back down at Alex who was holding in a laugh, he said after taking a breath, "I should've left her a twenty."

Alex finally lost her battle as she started laughing. Pulling him back down to her, she kissed him hard on the lips and then pushed him away. "Come on, I'm getting tired and we have to get this thing back to 1PP and turn it in."

Bobby gave a nod as he let her walk around him; he leaned against the door to the building and took a deep, calming breath.

"Are you coming?"

"Not now. Give me minute." He heard her continuous laughter as he closed his eyes and groaned. "Unlike you, I can't go from hot to cold in two seconds flat."

"I could help you with that."

Bobby glanced over his shoulder at her and asked, "Do you want me to tell you what just came to mind when you said that? It is Valentine's Day…if you do it, you won't have to give me a striptease later."

Shaking her head at him, she said, "You're such a man."

"You wanted to know what I'm thinking all the time. Alex, you could turn into that alien thing from that sci-fi movie and I'll still be interested."

"Wow, really?"

Finally feeling himself relax, yet more frustrated than before, he pushed off the door as he turned all the way around. "Yep, you, irritating me, definitely killed the mood."

"Told ya I could help," she teased as she walked around the front of the SUV, while purposely wiggling her ass the whole way.

Shaking his head, he opened the passenger and slid in. "Meanie; now you owe me a striptease, and for leaving me ready to go on the launch pad."

"Which was your fault for kissing me."

Bobby leaned over the console that separated them as he whispered into her ear, "No, it was your fault for being so damn irresistible," before kissing her cheek.

As Alex started up the SUV, she looked over at him and asked, "If she hadn't come out, how far would you have taken that?"

"Baby," he sighed as he leaned back in the seat and closing his eyes, "I would've risked being arrested." Looking over at her, he said, "Rodgers is going to get that autopsy done some time tonight, and she's going to call us."

"So what're you getting at?"

"We're only a few blocks from home. There's no need to go all the way back into Manhattan just to drive home, only to turn right around when she calls us. Let's go home and try to get some real sleep before she calls."

Alex smiled a little as she gave a nod. "That sounds like a plan I can agree with."

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

Bobby had started it the moment he shut the back door behind them. His hands had went to her jacket, helping her to take it off before wrapping his arm around her waist from behind. Pulling her into him as he kissed over her neck. To return the favor, and because of his injured hand, she turned in his arms and helped him to take off his jacket, and then his shirt.

That move had surprised her; he hadn't let her touch him without a shirt on since before the shooting. She had tossed the shirt somewhere in the kitchen as he reclaimed her mouth with his as he guided her backwards through the rooms. Her blouse and then tank top were scattered along the couch, and on the floor before they kicked off their shoes in the hallway.

His eyes were glued to hers as he backed her into the bed and leaned over her until she was laying down. She pressed her lips hard into his, bringing him down into her body. His lips broke away from hers as he attacked her neck, kissing, sucking, and licking her skin until she was squirming under him in need.

Wanting more, she pushed at him until he rolled with her in his arm onto his back. Straddling his hips, and pushing her tongue deeply into his mouth, she heard his sharp intake of breath as her hands roamed over his chest, down under his waistband. Her fingers slowly worked on unclasping his belt, and then, to further tease him, she gripped him through his tightening jeans.

Bobby groaned as he jerked up into her hand, begging her for more. "Alex," he breathed out when she left his mouth to kiss over his jaw, his cheek, and up to his ear. "We're on a time limit here."

She chuckled as she kissed over his ear and felt him shudder against her body. His right arm was still wrapped around her waist as his left caressed over the toned muscles in her abdomen, her ribs, before he rubbed at her breast through her bra. Alex smiled a little before she returned her mouth to his.

The constant movement of his hips against hers was pushing at her nerves since they were both still wearing pants. His hands left the teasing massage of her breast as he trailed feather light touches down her back and under her pants to her butt, squeezing and thrusting as his patience was slipping along with her own.

She was wet, pulsing against their clothed flesh; popping the button to his jeans, she heard him breathe out in anticipation as she pulled at his zipper. Reaching her hand in, she watched as his eyes closed and lips part as her hand wrapped around his length.

Alex leaned down and kissed at his quivering lips as she asked, "Feel good?"

"So good," his voice shook slightly. Bending up, he kissed over her neck and down her chest, over her swollen breasts as she sat up with him. His hand left her ass and was working on her zipper as he said, "These need to come off, now."

She felt the fingertips of his right hand trail along her spine as he unbuttoned her pants and pulled down the zipper. Alex had to shift to the side to get them off and then once she did, she was right back on top of him. Bobby had worked his jeans down far enough that when she straddled him again, he was right there ready for her. She guided him to her as she lifted herself up against him, using his shoulders for support, and then slowly...God, so slowly, lowered herself onto him.

They both had to catch their breaths as their arms wrapped around each other. Bobby breathed out heavily against her neck, causing a shiver to run down her spine as he slowly rocked into her.

Alex realized that he wasn't wanting to move, to lay back on the bed, as he held her tighter. "What happened to our time limit?"

Bobby shook his head as he barely pulled away to look up at her. She saw how wet his eyes were, and the emotions that poured from them had her holding back tears of her own. Slowly pushing him back onto the bed, she took it slow as their bodies mended and their kissing got softer, lighter, as they enjoyed the feel of their love for one another.

She had been so close to release that it didn't take long before she felt the heat spread through her body, up her chest, as it got harder to breathe. Bobby was right there with her as his gentle rocking became more erratic as the pleasure built and release of ecstasy grew closer.

It was so sudden that she didn't think either one of them expected it. They both gripped each other hard as everything in them broke and quaked; she heard his voice gasp against her neck as they pushed deeper and deeper into one another. Tears were burning her eyes as she slowly came back down, as the world refocused around her. Her breathing was rapid and harsh as she rested her head on his chest.

She could hear his pounding heart beat inside his chest as he took in a couple of deep breaths. Closing her eyes, she stayed on top of him as she tried to steady her own heart. His arms held her tighter as he rolled them onto their sides, and then her onto her back as his lips found her neck then her lips.

He leaned up slightly to push his jeans down and then kick them off, but he hitched his boxers back up before wrapping her arms around his neck. She was confused at what he wanted her to do until he moved her leg around his waist as he went to push off the bed. Holding on tight, Bobby wrapped her up securely in his arms as he carried her down the hall and into the bathroom.

Sitting down on the edge of the tub with her in his lap, Bobby turned the water knob and they were rewarded with a bust of water. "Water works," he said with a sleepy smile.

Alex finished undressing, unhooking her bra and tossing it on the floor as they waited for the hot water to heat up. Bobby took advantage of the newly exposed flesh as he kissed and massaged her breasts. By the time they were both standing in the shower, she was worked up again and despite his obvious exhaustion, he had no problem catering to her needs.

She had wanted to return the favor but bobby was barely able to keep himself standing while drying off. "You should stay and get some sleep."

"I'll be fine."

"Bobby, you can examine the body yourself in the morning. If Rodgers calls-"

"We've got to turn in the SUV anyway."

Alex sighed as she watched as he took two ibuprofens before backing her out of the bathroom. "I can turn it in. You're dead on your feet."

Bobby sat heavily on the bed and laid back. His eyes were barely open as he stared over at her as she dressed in clean clothes. Instead of her usual outfit, she pulled on a pair of jeans, a tank-top, and then a hoodie. Grabbing her brush, she quickly brushed her hair out as the phone rang.

Looking through the mirror on the dresser, she saw Bobby sit up to grab his cell out of his jeans pocket. "Goren…All right, we'll be there in twenty." He closed the phone and went to stand, stumbling slightly as he took a step.

Shaking her head as he picked up he slowly pulled on his discarded pair of jeans, she pulled out a clean t-shirt from the dresser and tossed it to him. His movements were a little choppy and slow, but he eventually got dressed and was ready to go a few minutes later.

"When we get back-"

"I know, I know, I'm going straight to bed."

Alex picked up both sets of keys and her coat as they headed out of the apartment.

* * *

><p><em><span>Office of M.E. Elizabeth Rodgers<span>_

_One Police Plaza_

"Happy Valentine's Day," Rodgers bitter-sweetly greeted as they entered the office.

Bobby smiled slightly as he walked over to the body of ADA Alec Gardner. A white sheet was covering him from the waist down, exposing the 'Y' incision on his chest and his stitched up head. "You had to remove his skull?"

"It wasn't a BB gun, but a nail gun," Rogers said as she handed him the evidence bag and the nail that had killed him. "The moment it went in, because of it being pressed right against his skull, the blood had coagulated and the skin partially sealed right over it. Hence the no blood."

"Yeah, I've seen that before with gunshot wounds," Bobby muttered as he tried not to think about his own gunshot wound and how if the bullet hadn't been dug out of him, he would've had the same thing happen to him. There would've been no blood rushing out of his body, and no obvious entry wound. "Never with a nail gun though."

"It happens," Rodgers said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Especially if it was hot from being repeatedly used."

Bobby looked over at her as he gave that some thought. If the nail gun had to be hot…"Someone was in the process of using the nail gun before the death occurred." Catching Alex's eyes, he said, "Maybe what Gardner was doing instead of working was building something."

Alex gave a nod as she said, "That could be anything."

"This type of nail," Bobby said as he worked the nail around in the evidence bag, "it's called a duplex nail, and it's used as a-a, uh, a specially nail for temporary projects, like…laying a frame before pouring concrete to add a section of sidewalk, or driveway."

"Not typical for a home project, especially since Gardner lived in an apartment."

Bobby smiled as he asked, "Wouldn't a new house be a nice wedding present?"

Alex smiled back as she instantly caught on to what he was thinking. "One big enough that would accommodate their different lifestyles and hobbies."

"Another thing about these nails, is that you don't use a nail gun for them. They're typically hand driven in by a hammer."

"An amateur?"

"Or like I was thinking before, a weapon of opportunity. The killer probably grabbed the first nail he saw, stuck it in the gun, and then…"

"Lights out Mr. Gardner."

"Anything else," Bobby asked as he turned to Rodgers who had leaned back against the counter as he and Alex conversed.

"Blood work came back clean; proving once again that he wasn't using. Moderate levels of alcohol in his system, nicotine levels were low, but…" she gave a sigh as she handed him the sheets of paper from the tox report. Then, she picked up another sheet and handed it to him. "This is what took me a little longer to complete my autopsy."

Bobby took the sheet and looked it over. Frowning in confusion, and then feeling a tightness clench his throat, he said, "Uh…phase three prostate cancer…_and,_" he barely continued as he handed the sheet over to Alex, "abnormalities in the brain tissue, the development of amyloid plaques and neurofibrillary tangles."

"Meaning," Alex asked in confusion.

"Early-onset Alzheimer's," Rodgers explained.

Alex frowned down at the sheet and then back up at him. "The symptoms of Alzheimer's could have been mistaken for depression, especially in the early stages. Bobby-"

He shook his head as he walked around the table. He heard Alex thank Rodgers' as he pushed the door open a little too hard as he felt the anger burn at his gut.

"There's no way you could have known."

Trying to hold in the explosion of anger he felt, he hit the button for the elevator as he gave a slight nod. Once the doors opened, he stepped in with Alex beside him. Then as the doors shut and he was staring at the floor as they rode up to the eleventh floor, he asked, "Do you think I'm losing my objectivity?"

"It was a simple mistake. He was only forty-seven years old, Bobby. Given his symptoms, his behavior and age, a persons immediate thought would have been suicidal depression."

"But I usually don't jump to conclusions like that."

"You're always jumping to conclusions, and yes, most of the time you're right, but not always. You're not God, Goren, and this mistake wasn't a costly one. It's just more evidence to help piece together the puzzle."

The doors opened and Logan was standing in front of it, waiting. At seeing them both standing there, squared off with one another, Logan said, "Couples counseling is on the fifth floor, along with home goods and furniture."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he exited the elevator, shoving the evidence bag into Logan's chest as he passed. "He was killed with a nail."

"This case gets more and more interesting with each passing day; definitely beats a missing person."

"He's dead, Logan."

"I'm used to dead," he grumbled from behind him.

Bobby went over to the copier and put the sheets in the machine to make copies for everyone. Looking over at the captain's office, he saw the light on the desk on and a overcoat hanging up. "Deakins is here?"

"He came in a few minutes ago, said he wanted to get an early start and mumbled something about his wife and daughters driving him nuts. Too many women around…Hey, Cap."

Glancing up from the machine, Bobby saw Deakins walk into the squad room, newspaper in hand.

Deakins raised the newspaper in greeting as he passed them on his way into his office. Then with a soft and strained voice, told them, "All of you get in here."

Bobby looked around at Logan and Alex as they shrugged and headed into the office. He grabbed the sheets from the machine and then followed. Since there was no one else in the squad room at that time, he didn't bother shutting the door. But he did hand out the copies to everyone, including Deakins, before pointing to the coffee machine. "Mind if I start this?"

"Help yourself," Deakins told him without so much as taking a glance over at him. Over his right left eye was a black eye patch, and Bobby noticed that he was having a hard time speaking since the left side of his face was still slack.

Bobby prepared the coffee machine as he listened to the conversation that started.

"I got a call from the Chief of D's earlier this evening, telling me about ADA Gardner." Deakins picked up the early edition of the morning paper and opened it. "Not even ten hours later, it's plastered all over the paper."

Logan took the newspaper, saying, "This is what happens when the victim's fiancée's brother runs the media, national spotlight."

"More like national disaster," Alex said as she took the paper from him. "It's saying that it's our fault he's dead because we didn't act fast enough, that we were incompetent."

"Incompetent? We didn't have anything. We still don't."

"We now know cause of death," Bobby said as he sat on the edge of the table as he waited for the coffee to brew. "We know that our suspects took the body and hid it for a few days, maybe to make everyone think Gardner took off. Or, to figure out how to dispose of the body without drawing suspicion onto themselves."

Deakins looked over at him as he asked, "You're going on the assumption that there's more than one?"

Bobby gave a nod but said, "At least that there are two involved with the cover-up. One killer, the other his accomplice."

"And what's the significance with Gardner's health?"

"That it ruled out our theory that he was suicidal and depressed," Alex spoke up as she took a glance over at him. "We had thought that he did take off in order to kill himself without anyone knowing."

Deakins frowned at Alex as he also looked over at him. He was probably wondering why Alex had to look over at him to gauge his reaction. Whatever the reason, Deakins gave a shrug and that was that. "What else you got, because I've got a meeting with the Chief at five."

Bobby took a glance at his watch and saw that they had three hours. Picking up a coffee cup, he filled it and then offered it to Deakins, telling him, "We were just about to go over everything."

"We were?" Logan asked as he glared up at him. "It's two in the morning."

"Yeah, and we're detectives and this is now a murder investigation," Bobby told him as he went back over to the table and picked up another coffee cup. "I think we lay it all out, everything, and maybe give the Captain something to tell the Chief, and the media, in three hours."

Deakins smiled slightly as he stood. "Gather your ammunition and meet me in the conference room." When he got at look from all of them, he said innocently, "What? Don't let the eye-patch foul you, I've still got the chops to help solve a case."

Logan chuckled as he got up to follow Deakins out of the office, but not before Bobby handed him the cup he'd filled.

Alex walked over to him and crossed her arms and leaned against the table. "You're going to need to make a few more of those if you're going to stay awake."

"I got my second wind the moment Rodgers handed me that evidence bag with a nail in it. But, you're right, the coffee is going to help." Bobby filled her a cup, gave it to her, and then filled one for himself which emptied the pot. Then he quickly started another pot before leaving the office.

As he gathered what he had on the case, Bobby pulled out his cell phone and made a call. It didn't surprise him in the least that the guy he called was awake. "You should be asleep, man."

"I would if I could, but newborns don't care about what I need. What's up?"

"Not now, but when you get into work, I need to know if Alec Gardner had recently bought some property."

"That ADA? Sure, no problem."

"Thanks," he said into the phone before flipping it shut as he entered the conference room. Sitting next to Alex, he shuffled through his files, trying to organize them until Deakins cleared his throat.

"Someone better start speaking soon, five's approaching fast."

When everyone looked to him, Bobby sighed and said, "Uh…Timeline," as he got up and went over to the white board. He figured the best way to start this was from the beginning. "We know that Gardner was at work Tuesday and because of his recent change in behavior, he didn't go out to dinner, or even went over to his fiancee's apartment afterwards. Instead, he went home under the presumption of going over the indictment for the Patterson case on Wednesday."

"The last I heard, we hadn't received any phone records."

Logan handed a copy of the phone records to Deakins as he told him, "We went over them this evening, and found some pretty interesting stuff."

Deakins took the papers as he asked, "How interesting?"

"For starters," Bobby said as he leaned on the table, looking right across it at their Captain, "Natalie Vandenberg had told the truth. No calls were made from her to him Tuesday night, but she did try to reach him on Wednesday. He never answered her calls. However…"

"He made a call at three twenty-one Wednesday afternoon to an unknown cell. It lasted for a minute forty. Then he accepted a call at four fifty-two," Deakins said as he sat the records down. "From the same unknown cell."

"I've got a bubby trying to track it down."

"Oh, you do? And what does this buddy do?"

Bobby glanced over at Logan as he shrugged, "He, uh, works with computers, and has a…a strong belief in the first amendment."

"This isn't that tree-hugger, is it?" Deakins asked.

"The better question is if Goren actually knows anyone that's legitimate and not a criminal?"

Bobby looked at Logan as he asked, "Since when is a tree-hugger a criminal?"

"When he's also a hacker."

Bobby smiled a little at both Deakins and Logan's questions before turning back around to the white board. "I plead the fifth on all the above," he said as he picked up the marker and started to map out the timeline. "Three twenty-one, a call is placed from Gardner's cell to an unknown. An hour and a half later, the same unknown calls back, which is answered."

"Makes me wonder why he didn't answer for the woman he was planning on marrying, or the police, or his secretary and everyone else trying to reach him that day," Alex said before adding, "That places time of death after the last call is made," while she opened up the laptop and started typing.

"Only if the phone was actually answered by him," Bobby said as he wrote the times down on the line. "With early stages of Alzheimer's…and what Natalie Vandenberg said about him taking afternoon naps, he would've been tired…There were moderate levels of alcohol in his blood, so add to the fact that he'd started drinking. Has he called an unknown before, uh…within the last month?"

Logan shook his head. "I looked; this was the first for both making a call to an unknown and accepting one."

"The killer could have made the call then, and the person calling him back…That could have been his accomplice."

"Then lets hope your friend is able to get that number," Deakins said as he toss the papers down on the table, "and the person attached to it. Right now, that's the only thing we have to go on."

Alex sighed as she rubbed at her head as she studied the computer screen. "I'm having a hard time thinking that the drop site was random. Of all the places in the city, why there? Why wasn't he left in the car or tossed it into the river? They kept him for nearly four days." Shaking her head, she said, "The only place of residence I've got on Gardner is his apartment on the Upper West Side. Nothing else."

Bobby gave a nod as he let that run through his mind. "This was an impulse kill, right?"

"That's the theory, well, your theory," Logan said as he leaned back in the chair and sipped on the coffee.

"Okay then, that means that there was no planning involved. Our killer, he gets the nail gun, right, and then he grabs the first nail he sees and presses it into the back of Gardner's head….Gardner would've had to have been turned away from him, and down, either kneeling or…Maybe there was a fight…"

"There was no evidence of a fight," Alex reminded him.

"Right-right…" Bobby said as he rubbed at his tired eyes and then picked up the cup of coffee and took a drink.

"But that doesn't mean that there wasn't an altercation," she continued say. "He was drinking so maybe he wasn't alone in doing his woodwork project. Someone else was there."

"And they get into an argument which escalates into offing Gardner. A friend?" Logan asked as he thought out loud. "Are you sure none of the Patterson's are involved?"

"You think one of them volunteered to help him lay concrete?" Alex asked as she looked over at Logan.

Bobby ignored Alex skepticism as he told Logan, "I only ruled out Patterson, his wife and mother, his daughter. The only one I'm not sure about is his son because he said that he was at a friend's house."

"Has that been confirmed?"

He shook his head as he told him, "No, not yet. I haven't had the chance to follow up. Zach wasn't exactly forthcoming when I visited the house, and I want to get him alone. I called, left him a message to come in today."

"Under the pretense of what? It's not exactly like you can tell him you're suspecting him of killing the man prosecuting his father."

Bobby let out a breath as he looked from Logan to Alex, and then to Deakins. "I told him that I was working his father's case, and that I needed his help to clear him of the sexual misconduct case against him."

Deakins stared over at him for a moment before asking, "Was that one of your lies or…?"

"It's not a lie, that is…If you'll permit me to continue with it." Bobby now that Alex was behind him, but he took a weary glance over at Logan and once again saw that spark of anger in his eyes. "Mike…"

Logan stared down at the table for a moment before finally giving a nod. "For your sake, I hope you're right."

"For a lot of people's sake I hope I'm right," Bobby said as he turned his attention back to Deakins. "I know it's an SVU case…"

"I'm not worried about pissing off Captain Cragen or his detectives, I'm worrying if you're ready to bite off more than you can chew. You're not back a hundred percent, you're still on limited duty, and I don't know why your hand is messed up, but taking on two cases-"

"I can handle it, Captain. And if it'll help, I won't do any of the legwork on this one. Eames and Logan can both handle it themselves, and I'll do what I can with the profile and helping with the paperwork. As for the Patterson case, I know I can't carry a weapon yet so I was thinking…I can delegate the workload with the SVU detectives already on the case."

Deakins had leaned back in the chair and was studying him as he thought that over. He clearly didn't like it, but he sternly told him, "I don't want to hear any complaints, I don't want to have to do damage control for you with SVU, and I sure as hell don't want you to be held back any longer than you already are. You check in with me every day, and you don't miss your appointments for anything."

Bobby smirked slightly.

"And stop smirking, detective, before I change my mind. You must really believe Patterson's innocent if your willing to make enemies with your friends over at SVU, because I know they're not going to be happy with you taking over their case."

He couldn't help but smirk a little bit more as he pushed off the table. Grabbing the marker, he asked, "Where were we?"

"We were at why Gardner was dumped in Manhattanville four days after he died," Alex said as she tried to muffle a yawn. "And where's the bagels or Chinese food at?"

"Right, uh…" Bobby grabbed his file and flipped through the mass of papers until he came upon the crime scene photos they had received before leaving 1PP for their impromptu trip to Brooklyn. "You're hungry again?"

"I'm starving."

"Ditto," Logan said as he pulled out his cell phone. "I'll get us a pizza."

"I thought I said Chinese."

Logan glared over at Alex and when neither of them backed down, Deakins rolled his eyes and said, "Order both. Pizza for Logan, Chinese for Alex, and heartburn meds for me."

Bobby shook his head as he taped the crime scene photos up on the board. Then, turning to Logan, said, "Get me one with everything."

"And all I want is a pint of Chicken fried rice." They all looked at Alex as she downed the rest of her coffee before getting up. "Anyone else in need of a refill?"

Deakins handed her his cup while telling Logan, "I'll take a plain cheese."

Bobby shook his head as he watched her leave the room and then finally sat back down. His second wind was dying out and he was ready to crash. Getting up, he went to the coke machine in the break room and bought himself one. The muscles in his neck were starting to hurt along with everything else in his body so he took out the bottle of ibuprofen that he started to carry around. He took two with the coke as he headed back into the conference room.

"So, you were getting at with the dump of the body was that since it was a spontaneous kill, and not preplanned, then the killer flipped out. He called a friend to come help him get rid of the body, and say that Gardner was building a house of his soon-to-be wife-"

"They kept Gardner in the house, or hid him there, until they figured out what to do with him," Bobby cut Logan off, finishing his thought. "The dump site could be close to the kill site. I wouldn't risk driving too far with a dead body in my car. CSU canvassed the area, but I doubt they were looking for vacant buildings, recently bought homes."

"I bet they didn't know about Gardner's fiancée's connection to the media. They probably thought they had more time to figure out a game plan," Deakins said as he looked over the white board and all the evidence they had.

"Score one for the boss," Logan teased as he stretched out in the chair, rubbing at his head and neck.

Bobby pulled out his bottle of ibuprofen and tossed it over to him. "The news broke that he was missing before the first call was placed on Gardner's cell phone. They find out that the police are on high alert, searching for Gardner…APB went out for his vehicle."

Alex returned and sat down at the table, saying, "What if the killer called the accomplice first on his own cell phone. Then the accomplice, seeing the breaking news on the ADA, tells the killer to get off his cell."

"Can we give these guys names? You know like, idiot 1, idiot 2," Logan teased as his phone buzzed on the table. Looking at the caller ID, he said, "Pizza's here. I'll get it."

Bobby watched as Logan left the conference room before jumping onto Alex's train of thought. It took him that long to wake his brain back up. "The first thing he's going to think to get rid of is the body and the car, but he can't move the body himself, so he takes the car."

"Along with Gardner's wallet?"

"Why not?" Deakins said, "Criminals aren't the brightest tools in the shed, plus this guy isn't a pro."

"And the wallet in the car did throw us off, but I'm thinking now that our killer's intention in torching the car was to get rid of any evidence of himself. It was self-preservation."

Deakins looked over at him as he said, "Remember that case a few weeks ago, about a car-jacking?"

Bobby had to think about it but he briefly remembered a blurb of something like that on the news. "It briefly made the news."

"Story goes that a man was sitting at a red light, in that same area, when two men jumped in his car and took off. The car was later found burned out in a parking lot, the driver has yet to be found. They're thinking it's gang related, but that hasn't been made public. This knuckle-head was probably hoping to make us think this was done by those same guys. Once again trying to take himself off the suspect list."

"But why would he think he was on the list to begin with unless it was someone that Gardner knew personally."

Bobby smiled over at Alex as he said, "Exactly. We're looking from someone close to the ADA, someone who's in fear of being found out, who would overreact and try to distance himself from the crime."

"Have we came up with a theory of the cell phone usage yet?" Logan asked as he returned with the pizza and the Chinese food. "When I got down there to get the pizza, the Chinese delivery guy rode up on a bike."

"Thanks, Logan," Alex said as she took her carton of fried rice and Chicken.

"We're thinking that the, uh, the killer stopped using his own cell when he found out that the police was out searching for Gardner."

"In order to what, have us trace the GPS."

"GPS was turned off," Bobby reminded him as he flipped the lid off the pizza box and took out a slice and sat down. "Another overreaction. Killer went in panic mode, and in order to-to, uh, to not have anything come back on him, used the ADA's phone to make his calls. Of course the guy doesn't realize that once we find out who he is, we can verify that he is the killer by looking at his phone records."

"We can match the unknown cell and the time he placed the call," Alex said as she took a bite of her food.

"That is if the killer actually made a call first from his own cell. This is all speculation," Deakins reminded them all as he got up. "Anyone want anything from the machine?"

"Sprite," Alex called out between a mouthful of rice.

"No thanks, Cap, I'm good." Logan then shrugged as he said, "At least this speculation is something. It's giving us something to go on, working our brains and trying to piece together this evidence. First thing we gotta do is find this hypothetical house."

"I got a bubby on that one too."

"Another criminal?" Logan asked as he grabbed a slice of pizza.

Bobby shook his head, saying, "The same guy I used when I uh…I was trying to find Alex. His name's Jeff Foster and he works for the trustee's office. Deals with property deeds." He stuffed down three slices in a matter of minutes before he felt the pain of exhaustion and the need for a drink pound at his head and eyes. Downing the rest of his coke, he got up to get another.

Deakins reentered the room and said, "All right, any bright ideas about the needle, or trying to make Gardner look like a junkie?" When they all looked at each other, he sighed and shook his head. "Good work for the night. Once you get done eating, I want you all gone. Go home and get some rest, I'll even let you sleep in since you put in all this overtime. So, be back here no later than ten. Goren, come here first before heading over to SVU."

Bobby gave a nod as before leaving the room. He got himself another can of coke and wished it was a beer as he opened it and took big gulp, feeling the carbonation burn all the way down his throat.

Twenty minutes later, they were all full and exhausted as they headed to their cars. Logan was the first to break off as he walked with Alex over to her Toyota.

"I forgot you drove yourself."

Bobby turned her around and kissed her lips before backing away. "I did too, actually. I'll follow."

"You sure you can stay awake?" she asked as she got into the driver's seat.

"Don't start," he said as he leaned down to give her another kiss. "I'll be fine." Bobby shut the door and then headed over to where his car was parked.

TBC…


	7. Monday, February 14th, 2005 pt2

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

_The grey cement bricks of the interrogation room surrounded him from all sides. There was no door, no glass two-way mirror, no table, no nothing except for him standing in the middle of it. He felt trapped and it was getting harder to breathe as he back up into a wall. Looking up, he saw no ceiling; instead the walls went up and on forever in the dark abyss. He was trapped in his own private hell, enclosed in with his own self. With nothing but his own mind to drive him slowly insane._

_Opening his mouth to scream out, it caught in his throat, gagging him as if a hand was strangling him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and then he heard the faint pleading of someone…a man, breaking through the silent room. _

"_I'm going to make you squeal."_

He jerked awake, nearly throwing himself off the bed, as he gasped for air. It was a struggle to get air in and out as his body shook but he wasn't cold. He was too hot and there was that faint buzzing noise in his head again.

Alex shifted behind him and he felt her arm wrap around his and then her lips on the back on his neck. "Another nightmare?"

Bobby sighed and closed his eyes against the kiss, trying to feel how it was supposed to calm him. It wasn't working because he wasn't calming. Giving a nod to her question, he took a glance at the clock. He had only slept for twenty minutes after he'd spent hours tossing and turning in bed while fighting through a fit of cold sweats. Alex was struggling to sleep as well because of his constant movements.

His head was pounding with thoughts on the case mixed with his own physical and mental pain. Without being able to ease it all with alcohol, it was harder to sleep, harder to push everything away for a few blissful hours. He realized that he'd been self-medicating himself with alcohol for a very long time.

Maybe he should tell his doctor about the insomnia and get on sleeping pills. Groaning in pain and exhaustion, he sat up on the edge of the bed. Feeling the t-shirt sticking to his body he pulled it off and tossed it toward the closet.

"I'll start the shower; why don't you go and put the coffee on?"

She got up and left the room without waiting for a response back from him, which was a good thing because he didn't have one.

It was six in the morning and they would normally be awake and getting ready for work anyway if Deakins hadn't given them until ten that morning to be in at work since they pulled an all-nighter. Getting up, he made his way to the kitchen. He got halfway down the hall before he felt his stomach lurch, making him rush back to the bathroom.

He had avoided food all day yesterday, having felt nauseous, until he couldn't stand not eating any longer, and that was when he had gone to the diner with Alex. Then still hungry, he had gotten that pizza at work. It finally caught up to him, and in the worst way possible as he spent nearly ten minutes empting his stomach as Alex rubbed his back, trying to sooth the tense muscles.

After the dry heaving passed, he still couldn't stand as his chest clenched, his heart pounded, and his soul ached. He felt like curling into a ball and crying, yelling, screaming, and die, preferably all at the same time.

It was day two of his self-inducted detox of alcohol and the harder it was becoming to not cave in. If it wasn't the constant need for a drink that was going to do him in, it was going to be the physical anguish of withdrawal that would finally do it. And, besides, he had told himself that he needed to stop his excessive drinking, break his dependence, not quit altogether.

Yet, Alex was right. If he started back up so soon he would probably slip back into old habits. So, he had to fight through it and not cave. It was going to be the ultimate battle within his mind and soul because he was already suffering from depression, and PTSD, and all the physical pain was enough to take him to his knees and actually pray to a God he didn't even believe in.

Finally, he pushed himself up off the floor and took a hold of the counter. Alex took out the aspirin bottle and handed him two with a glass of water. As he took those, she picked up his tooth brush and paste and got it ready for him. Staring down at her, he heard his voice in his foggy head say, "I can do that myself."

Alex handed it to him as she said, "I was only help-"

"Yeah, well, I don't need to be mothered, Alex," he snapped as he snatched up the toothbrush.

Alex shook her head at him as she left the bathroom, muttering something under her breath that he probably would've heard if the buzzing hadn't gotten louder in his head.

After brushing his teeth and rinsing his mouth out, he slipped his boxers off and got into the shower to wash away the grime of sweat that coated his body. He quickly washed his body over a few times with soap, and his hair, before leaning his forearms against the wall. Closing his eyes, he felt the warm spray beat down on him.

Then everything faded, blackened, as he lost consciousness. His knees buckled, sending him falling forward into the wall.

The moment his arm hit the side of the tub he snapped awake as his eyes blurred in front of him as the room tilted, making his stomach twist into knots. He was still in the tub, hadn't fallen over, but was on his back having caught himself with his right arm breaking his fall. Luckily for him he hadn't hit his head, or fallen sideways.

"Bobby, are you okay in there? I heard banging…Bobby?"

He went to speak when the sudden gripping of his chest and throat prevented him from getting a word out. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for the amount of pain and sorrow that bombarded his body and mind. Tears actually filled his eyes as he felt the impending breakdown push and pull at his control. Swallowing hard, and clenching his eyes shut, he pushed the tight lump in his throat down.

"Are you okay?" she asked again; this time so much closer. "What happened?"

He felt her hand on him, on his shoulder as the water cut off, silencing the droning noise that had taken residence in his head. The her hand was on his head, caressing his cheek as he shivered and shook and tried to speak. Finally, all he could manage was, "Can't breathe," in tight, short, gasps.

The short seconds she was gone felt like an eternity before she covered him in a towel. While Alex tried to dry him off while he was still sitting in the tub, he was trying to breathe and get his body to work. He needed to stand but his body was refusing to listen to his head.

He felt his robe engulf him and then her body pressed right up into his as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She didn't say anything other than that it was going to be okay, that he was okay, and that she loved him while she rested her head on his, holding him tighter and closer as he fought to catch his breath.

It felt like hours before he was able to calm himself down, but it was only a few short minutes before he was hitching in deep breaths, straining to get the air into his lungs which felt on fire. His whole body felt that way, like he was burning from the inside out. He had to unclench his left hand from out of his hair to be able to wipe it over his face, feeling the combination of water wetting his palm. Taking in a deeper, calmer breath he looked over at Alex.

She had climbed into the tub with him; had wrapped him up in his robe, and held him as he gave in for a moment to all the hurt he'd been feeling with a panic attack. And, she didn't look accusing, or judgmental, or apologetic about any of it. She didn't look like she had had enough and was ready to throw in the towel and leave him. She looked ready to go another round if need be. Tired, but ready for anything.

Alex reached up to run her fingers through his wet hair as he leaned over and caught her lips in his, kissing her.

Pulling away slightly, he rested his head against hers as his eyes slid close. He was so tired. He hadn't really slept since Saturday, and that was only because he had been so exhausted from not sleeping since days, or maybe weeks, before then. He didn't think that he'd actually slept without the help of some form of drug since before the shooting.

He hadn't been able to sleep without the help of a drink since before…Years. It had been years. There was no way he could do this. There was no way he could continue the rest of his life without ever drinking again. There would be no twenty year sobriety coin for him, no AA meetings, because he couldn't do it. He wasn't strong enough. Wasn't mentally healthy enough…He was a coward. A pathetic coward.

"Can you stand?"

Giving a nod, he pushed those thoughts away as he focused on standing. He was able to get out of the tub with the help of Alex supporting him. His body felt like jell-o and he felt jittery, like after having too much caffeine, but he knew it was another symptom of withdrawal. Yesterday it had taken nearly all his willpower to not let anyone see his hands shaking, but today was going to be worse. He could feel it coming on. The restlessness, the jitters and the shakes.

Maybe it was a good thing that he was already a restless guy; that he normally moved around a lot with boundless energy. It would help him to hide it a little. And, he could always twist his hands together when they started to shake in front of people; another thing he normally did to keep himself grounded in the present.

This could work. He could do this, he told himself. One day, and step, at a time. Bobby wrapped the robe around him and tied it off as he used the towel to dry his wet hair before he hung it back up on the door.

"Why don't you get dressed?"

He gave her another look as he felt the embarrassment heat up his neck. He felt angry again, and wanted to start yelling again about her mothering him, but then the urge to cry hit his chest again. It was a constant turmoil of emotions rolling around like a pinball in his chest. One minute he was so angry he could start screaming, the next he wanted to wallow in misery.

"I've got the coffee going and breakfast," Alex kept saying, oblivious to the torturous turmoil within him. "I'll make you some toast and oatmeal."

The thought of food actually made his stomach turn. This sick feeling wasn't going to go away anytime soon. He remembered his friend, who he had help to detox in the Army, had felt sick for weeks after, barely eating for the first week. What he did need to do was hydrate himself. He needed to drink tons of water from now until this was all over; it would help. He remembered it helping.

Leaving the bathroom, he went back into the bedroom to dress. Even that task was slow and exhausting. As he stood in the closet and pulled a dress shirt off the hanger, he felt his body want to give. Gripping the edge of the doorframe, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Once he felt he could manage to finish dressing, he slipped the shirt on and started buttoning it.

Taking a suit jacket from the hanger, he went to step out of the closet when a thought struck him.

If Gardner was killed working on a house…then why in the hell was he found in his nice, clean, Brooks Brothers suit?

"I'm an idiot," he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a tie off the hanger on the closet door as he left the room. Slinging the tie over his shoulder, he stepped into his shoes that were in the foyer, before going into the kitchen.

Alex was at the stove and he could smell eggs along with the oatmeal and coffee. The smell of the eggs made him gag as he pulled down a bowl. When she turned around to take the bowl from him to fill it with the oatmeal, he told her, "They kept Gardner to clean him up."

She handed him the bowl back along with a plate of toast, and said, "Because he was wearing a suit, which isn't typically worn when hammering in nails. I know, I thought that was already established."

Bobby frowned down at her as he asked, "When? I don't remember it being discussed."

"It wasn't, but it was obvious and we all thought it. At least I thought we all thought it. You're just now realizing that?"

Rubbing at his aching head, he sighed as he went over to the table and sat the food down. Taking a cup, he poured himself a cup of coffee and kept it black as he sat down. "It did, actually. I think I was way too tired last night to think properly if I missed that important little detail. I mean, I could have been thinking it, but, because I was so focused on the timeline and the phone records, it probably got pushed to the sidelines. Anyway, that goes along with the overreaction to the killing of Gardner. Whoever did this, freaked so bad that he did everything he could think of to clean up after himself and stage an overdose that wasn't an overdose. I thought it was strange that Gardner didn't have a scratch on him, that he was perfectly clean, even his suit."

"There's a lot to think about with this case that it's so easy to forget some of the details." Alex dished out a plate for herself as she told him, "You need to start figuring out a way to sleep, Bobby. You can't keep going like this."

"I should be hearing something back from my buddy sometime soon," he said instead of answering to that. It would only resort to a fight, either verbal or silently. He didn't want that right now. There was already too much going on that the last thing he needed was for her to be worried about his sleeping habits, or lack thereof. "He's good at tracing unknown prepaid cell phones."

Alex sat down across from him and handed him a yogurt and apple. "You need more than just oatmeal. Want some orange juice?" she asked as she got up to get her a glass.

"We have orange juice?"

"I bought some when I went shopping yesterday," she told him as she got the carton out and filled them both a glass. "I think you even put it up for me."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he tried to remember that, but couldn't. Sighing, he picked up the glass and took a sip. He grimaced at the sting the acid caused to his throat and put it down on her side of the table.

"You don't want it?"

Shaking his head, he started to eat his food as they fell into an uncomfortable silence. He knew that she wanted him to talk about it, about what happened in that bathroom, but he didn't. He didn't even want to think about what happened in that bathroom this morning ever again. It felt like the most embarrassing moment of his adult life. A grown man, naked in the shower, freaking out and having a panic attack like a little boy.

After he was done eating his food, he got up and filled a glass with water and took an ibuprofen, downing the water before filling the glass again. As he turned to walked back over to the table, his hand jerked sharply from a sudden jolt that briefly numbed his fingers. The ear-piercing sound of glass shattering made him jump back as he looked to the floor.

Cursing under his breath, he closed his eyes and took a breath.

"I'll-"

"No," he said sternly, cutting Alex off from whatever it was so was going to say. His left hand was shaking bad as he ran it through his hair and over the back of his neck. Moving around the broke glass and water, he said, "I got it," as he reached the closet by the back door and pulled out the broom and dustpan.

Alex hadn't cared what he told her because she was out of her seat and grabbing a towel to clean up the water.

"Alex…"

"I can help," she told him as she picked up a piece of the broke glass and tossed it into the trash can.

Kneeling down, he grabbed her hand before she could picked up another piece of the glass. Gripping her wrist a little too hard in his shaky left hand, he sternly said, "Alex, stop. I've already embarrassed myself enough with what happened in the bathroom…I don't need your help to clean this up. Just let me-" At seeing the sudden wince of pain on her face as she looked down, Bobby felt how hard he was actually gripping her arm and let go with a panic of fear in his chest. "I'm sorry…I didn't-"

She immediately covered her right wrist and started to massage over it as she told him, "I'm okay. If you want to do this all by yourself then fine, Bobby. I didn't mean to be _mothering_ you," Alex bitterly snarked as she quickly stood and left the kitchen, leaving him staring after her as he felt the pain ignite in his gut.

Pushing it down, he turned back to the broken glass on the floor and started cleaning it up. He put the broom and dustpan back and wiped the remaining water up with a towel before leaving the kitchen. Alex's bird had been chirping non-stop since the glass broke but was now quiet as he passed by the cage and rounded the foyer into the hallway.

At the end of the hall the door to the bedroom was closed and that sent him into a panic all over again. Alex never shut the door, not even when she was dressing. He gave a light tap on it, and not knowing why, before he opened it.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, zipping up her boots. Her hair was hanging loosing down in front of her face but she couldn't fool him. He heard her deep breathing, her sniffling nose, and she was clutching a tissue in her hand. There was nothing unusual about her wearing a long sleeve shirt in the winter time, but he realized that that particular shirt was longer than some of her other ones. The arms stretched passed her wrist up to her fingers. Leaning heavily against the doorframe, he stared at the floor and felt like dying right then and there.

"Ready to go?" Alex asked as she got up and went to walk by him.

He put his arm to stop her.

"Bobby, move."

"No, not until I see your wrist."

Alex glared up at him and then she tried to push by him but he was bigger than she would ever be, and stronger, as she tried to fight by him. "This is…" she grunted as he grabbed her by the arms, stopping her.

"This is what?" he asked as he pushed her back into the room.

"Ridiculous, childish-"

"Just let me-"

"No," she cut him off as she wrapped her arms across her chest. "It's not that big of a deal, Bobby. Even if you did leave a bruise, what then? It wasn't intentional and I know that."

He started pacing and couldn't help it as he rubbed over his neck, his mouth, as he stared down at the floor. "It means a lot if-if I did, Alex. It means that I'm not aware, that I'm so…unfocused, that I'm not realizing my own strength, and that I'm hurting you. No matter how unintentional, it's not safe. I'm not safe!" Staring over at her, he asked again, "Let me see."

"No," she denied him again.

Was she taunting him for a reason? All she was doing was making him angrier and she had to know she was going it. "Alex, please," he asked but his voice didn't hold the gentle plea that those words suggested. His jaw was literally twitching.

Then Alex made a bold move as she went to walk right by him again. She didn't get far as he wrapped his injured arm around her midsection, lifting her off the floor.

Alex's arms shot out, wrapping around his shoulder, his neck, as she yelped, "Bobby! Put me down!"

He did as she asked, but not on the floor, but he dropped her on the bed and was immediately on top of her, holding her down.

"Goren, I'm warning you, let me go," she tried to threaten him but a laugh escaped, betraying her threat, as he took a hold of her arms and trapped them to her chest when she tried to push him away.

Bobby just smirked as she struggled beneath him.

"Let go," she said again right before he felt a knee slam into his inner thigh. It missed its target, but a sharp jolt of pain ignited in his thigh, his leg, and in his groin.

He caught the cry of pain in his clenched mouth as it momentarily froze him, giving Alex the advantage as she knocked him to his side and off of her. As he grabbed his inner thigh, the spot right next to his valuables, he glared over at her as he groaned into the bed. Despite the pain, he was thankful that she had missed his balls or else that would have been the end to their sex life

Alex actually started laughing. "I warned you."

"That _was_ intentional," he gritted his teeth as he grimaced in pain. "And that really fucking hurt."

She pushed him onto his back as she stared down at him. "What happened to my wrist in that kitchen," she said as she slid the sleeve down. At seeing the red mark that would soon turn into a purple and blue bruise, he shook out a deep breath. "Hey, this wasn't intentional, so I don't want to listen to you beating yourself up over it. And what I did to you, you asked for it."

Bobby narrowed his eyes at her and she challenged him to say otherwise as she glared right back at him. "There are better ways of getting a point across than nearly castrating me with your knee."

Alex chuckled at that as she told him, "Not with you. If I don't present evidence, you tend to ignore it." She smiled a little as she said, "If Logan notices the bruise I get to say 'you should see the other guy', and mean it."

Bobby couldn't help it, he smiled and then chuckled as he rubbed at his thigh. The movement caused it to hurt. At noticing his pain, Alex reached down to feel at his thigh and give it a rub. He couldn't help but smirk as he said, "Wrong spot."

Alex rolled her eyes as she shoved him in the chest, making him laugh a little harder. But she did lean down and give him a kiss.

When she broke the kiss, he said again, "Wrong spot again, my lips aren't the ones in pain."

"Neither is the spot you want my lips on."

"Close enough," he teased as she leaned up and slid off his lap, causing him to moan. "We don't have to be in at work until ten…It's only eight."

Alex gave him a wave over her shoulder as she continued out the door and down the hallway, leaving him to watch her walk away for the second time that day.

"You're such a tease, Alex Eames," he called down the hall and heard her laugh in return. Reaching down to his thigh again, he rubbed over the sore muscles and groaned. That really did hurt; he didn't even want to think about that amount of pain he'd be in right now if she had hit her target.

He probably would've passed out.

* * *

><p><em><span>Major Case Squad<span>_

He had scheduled for Zach Patterson, Guy's son, to come in to be interviewed at eleven, which gave him plenty of time to go over his list of questions he'd wanted to ask the young man. He was at his desk, adding a few more thoughts to the list, when he felt someone walk up beside him. Glancing up, Bobby saw that it was Logan. "What'd you want?"

Logan frowned at that question as he said, "To sit in when you question Zach."

Bobby returned his attention to his binder as he gave a nod. "Yeah, okay. You and Eames, uh, if you want you can be there."

"I said me, Eames is busy over at the courthouse. Carver wanted to talk to her about the warrant for Gardner's office and then she's going to search the place. I stayed to talk to Zach and then meet up with her later."

He looked over at Alex's desk and saw it empty as he let out a breath. Having Logan with him while he talked to Zach, alone, wasn't something he wanted to do. However, it looked like he had no choice. "Okay, but let me question him about my case. And then if you have any questions pertaining to Gardner's murder to ask, then I'll want to stay."

Logan shifted against the pillar as he crossed his arms. "You're keeping an eye on me. Is that it? I'm not the one running around her throwing people on desks."

Bobby glared up at Logan as he stopped writing. Working his jaw, he tried not to get angry as he felt his hand shake. It wasn't just from the anger, but his withdrawal. Dropping the mechanical pencil, he twisted his hands together as he looked away from Logan. "I don't want to…" taking a breath, he shook his head and dropped his hands on the desk. "Now is not the time to have this discussion, all right? You want to be in there with me, I want to be in there with you…Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it," Logan said with a bitter snap of his voice as he pushed off the pillar and stalked over to his desk.

Bobby closed his eyes as he felt the sweat start to coat his back, his neck, and over his forehead. Getting up, he headed to the men's room to try and calm himself, and clean up, before Zach arrived.

The kid was ten minutes late, but he arrived. Zach walked in with a patrol officer and a visitor pass hanging off his jacket. On his shoulder was a book bag which he carried with him into the interview room.

"Go ahead and have a seat," Bobby told him as he stood to greet him. "Uh, thanks for coming in. Would you like anything? Coffee, a soda…?"

Zach shook his head as he pulled a water bottle out of the side pocket of the book bag. "I've got my own, but thanks."

Bobby smiled a little as he sat back down. A moment later Logan walked in with a cup of coffee in hand; he shut the door and then sat down next to him. "This is Detective Logan, he's uh…He's working the murder of ADA Gardner."

At the mention of Gardner's death, Zach blinked back and stared at him before looking to Logan. "He's dead? I thought…The news said he was missing."

He glanced over at Logan who looked to him. Bobby turned back to Zach as he told him, "His body was found early last night…It hasn't been made public yet."

"Am I a suspect?" he fearfully asked as he stared at him. "I thought you were taking over my dad's case? I came here to-"

Holding up his hand, Bobby tried to calm the son down. "I didn't lie to you, Zach. I'm working your father's case, but Detective Logan is working the ADA's, which are overlapping each other. All right, no one is accusing you of anything. We just need to sort something's out, get some answers, and then you're free to go."

Zach was struggling to calm down, but he gave a nod as he leaned back in the chair and took a sip of the water. "Okay. I'm sorry, it's just this whole thing's been tough. My dad didn't do anything."

"I believe that," Bobby truthfully told him. At seeing the disbelief in the young man's eyes, he said, "I do, that's why I asked you here and why I'm taking over the case. I wouldn't have done that if I thought he was guilty."

"But you think I am?" he accused again.

"Why are you so defensive?" Logan suddenly asked as he picked up the cup of coffee off the table and took a sip.

Zach looked over at Logan as he told him, "Maybe because my family's been thrown under the bus and no matter where I go, I'm also being accused of bullshit I didn't even do."

"Logan," Bobby cut him off before he could open his mouth. When Logan looked over at him, he slightly shook his head. Turning back to looking at Zach, he heard Logan's deeply irritated sigh which told him that he was pissed off with being kicked to the sidelines.

At seeing this, Zach asked, "What's he doing in here anyway if he's got questions for the other case? Why don't we talk first and then he can ask me whatever he wants to about the ADA?"

Bobby wanted to smirk at that as he looked over at Logan and saw him growing more annoyed with this kid by the second.

Clearing not liking it, Logan pushed the chair back hard and got up from the table. He opened the door, nearly letting it slam against the wall before he stalked off.

Bobby got up and shut the door before turning back to Zach who was leaning on the table with his head in his hand. "You're sorry for that?"

Rubbing at his head, Zach looked up at him as he told him, "I've been snapping like that to everyone. I didn't mean it."

"You haven't been sleeping?"

He gave a nod as he rubbed at his eyes and then picked up the bottle of water. "We all haven't been sleeping. My dad's constantly at the kitchen table every night, just sitting there, thinking. I've caught mom in the bedroom a few times, crying. The only person in that house not affected by all this is Elise."

"No one ever really gives consideration to the family on the opposite end of…uh, of something like this, do they?"

"Oh, they consider us all right, but it's only to accuse, to point fingers and drag us through the mud. It's never that maybe the cops got it wrong and we're innocent in all this fucking mess." Zach took a breath and glanced up at him, apologizing, "Sorry."

Bobby shook his head as he flipped open his binder that had been sitting unopened in front of him on the table. "You have no reason to apologize. I understand. I try to remain, uh…unbiased, as a cop, to fully understand both sides of the crime, you know. Most cops aren't like that, even when they say they are. Most immediately side with the victim and, you know, be damned with the suspect. I've got to admit, though, that, uh…I've found myself, on a few occasions, unfairly acting the same way."

Dan Croyden came to mind and he had to push that away as he saw Zach's defenses dropping. He had also acted that same way going the opposite direction as he defended the suspect with hardly any consideration to the victims. When the pleading words of John Tagman entered his head yet again, he got up and gestured toward the break room. "Are you sure you don't want a soda or coffee?"

Zach gave it some thought as he finally nodded, asking, "A coffee would be good, black. Thanks."

Bobby smiled slightly as he opened the door and crossed the room. He had left the case file and his notes all in his binder. Taking a glance over his shoulder, he saw that Zach leaned back in the chair and ignored what was in front of him on the table.

He continued to watch the son as he filled two cups with black coffee and then crossed the floor back over to the room. Normally, if someone was guilty, they would try to catch a glimpse of what they had on the case. Zach never once tried to see what was written on the pages in his binder or what was in the case file. Sitting the coffee down on the table, Zach thanked him again as he picked up the cup and took a big gulp.

"Your hands are shaking, are you okay?" Zach asked as Bobby sat back down.

"Too much coffee and not enough sleep," he told him as he took a sip while pulling out a mechanical pencil, noticing how his hands were jittery.

"I guess we don't take into consideration the cops working these cases either. For all I know that detective with Special Victim's had been coming off a really tough case with a week long of no sleep. He could've been really tired and ready to just go home to his own family for a change. It's not an excuse but I'm not thinking that maybe this cop has been dealing with this kind of shit for so long that he's lost faith in the innocent. He sees some magazines, draws a conclusion, and yeah, nine times out of ten he's probably right. Given that and the fact that my dad's a Catholic high school coach. It seems like recently every time I turn on the news the Church is being accused of something, mostly child sexual abuse. It's kind-of like, when does it all stop." Finally looking up at him from the table, Zach told him, "It stops with my dad because he is innocent. I guarantee you that."

Bobby stared right back in Zach's eyes and he saw the same look he'd seen in Patterson's eyes a few days before. Pure honesty; it nearly made him look away because he didn't think that such a thing existed anymore. Everyone lied…or so he thought. "I only have a few questions,." he said as he cleared his throat and looked down at his binder, "and then I'll let the other detective back in here. If you want, I'll stay for that as well?"

Zach gave a nod as he told him, "Yeah, that'll be good."

"You don't trust, Detective Logan?" he asked, getting his mind back on track.

Zach gave a shrug as he told him, "I don't know. He reminds me of the other detective."

Bobby threw a guess out as he asked, "The one with Special Victims?"

"Yeah, he, I don't know, rubbed me the wrong way I guess. He didn't care about what we said, or my dad, he saw what he saw and nothing else mattered. My dad became the scum of the earth to him and he was instantly guilty."

Bobby looked out of the window and saw Logan sitting at his desk, sulking as the kept glancing their way. "You blame the Special Victim's detective for this happening?"

"If he had done a better job, looked deeper into it, then my family wouldn't be in this mess. So, yeah, I do," Zach snapped out with no regret this time in his anger and bitterness.

"So tell me," Bobby told him. "I am looking deeper, but I'm hitting dead-ends. No one can verify one way or the other what exactly happened. No one can explain the appearance of child pornography in your family's game room…"

Zach leaned back in the chair as he shook his head. "I don't know who that belongs to, but it's not my fathers. He doesn't have a porn stash." Bobby looked at him until Zach admitted, "I looked, okay, when I was like fourteen. It doesn't exist."

Bobby smiled a little as he wrote that down without his hand betraying him. It took a lot of focus to keep his hand from shaking, making his writing legible. "And you don't know who brought it in?"

"It could've been one of my friends from high school, but I don't know. During parties I would have in the basement, I don't remember anyone showing it, or passing anything like that around. We tried to sneak beer in a few times, but…"

"Uh, we?"

Zach laughed a little. "I wasn't going to tell my dad that it was my idea. That would've been the end of my parties."

Bobby took a sip of the coffee as he smiled a little. So far, Zach seemed very forthcoming in his answers. If the porn had been his, he would've given it up, especially if it was to save his dad from anymore accusations. That meant he had no idea how to explain the magazines that were found in the home. "Did you know Caleb Cunningham before?"

Zach shook his head as he leaned his elbows on the table. "I don't hang around the high school anymore. I've been in college and then working before I lost my job."

"What job?"

"Drafting."

Bobby blinked back as he looked up at Zach as he asked, "Drafting as in a, uh, being a draftsman…a technical designer?"

"Yeah," Zach said as he ran a hand through his dark blond hair. "I design blueprints for buildings. Mostly residential housing, but I've done office buildings too."

"What reason did they have to fire you?"

Zach stared at the table as his neck heated. Looking up, he told him with a sense of shame in his voice. "My ex-girlfriend was my boss. When we broke up, things at work got very complicated and I acted like a jerk. She fired me instead of me quitting. If I had quit, I wouldn't have received unemployment so she actually did me a favor. I received a letter of recommendation from her in the mail a few days ago. I guess that means I'm forgiven if she's trying to help me gain employment somewhere else."

"I would think so," he said with a nod as he wrote all that done. Bobby reached up to rub at the sweat that began to coat his forehead again. He would deal with the back of his neck later.

"You're looking pretty bad, you might be coming down with the flu or something," Zach told him as downed the rest of his coffee.

"I have been feeling off for a few days." Bobby glanced out through the window and when he caught Logan's eyes, he gestured for him to come in.

Zach looked over his shoulder as Logan approached the room. "You're sending in the righty already?"

Bobby chuckled a little at that baseball reference as Logan opened the door. "Told you I only had a few questions."

"But you asked only like two that actually involved the case," Zach said as he glanced up at Logan as he shut the door and then sat back down.

Only a few questions, but he gained a lot of information from just letting Zach talk freely and openly. Some people, including cops, never seemed to realize that the most important pieces of information didn't come from asking a question about the case, or even from asking a question at all, but came from having a conversation.

Bobby gestured for Logan to ask away as he returned to his binder. He wasn't writing anything down yet, but he was drawing pictures in the margin to keep himself grounded so not to lose his mind in the thoughts that were bombarding his head.

He already knew what question Logan was going to ask before he asked them, so with each one asked, he crossed it out on his list.

"I've just got a couple questions," Logan said as he leaned on the table. "Tuesday night, where were you?"

"At a friend's house. His name's Rob Jenkins, he lives in the Bronx."

"How'd you know him?"

Zach glanced over at him and then looked back at Logan as he answered, "I met him in college. We're both technical designers."

"I've already established his occupation and how he uh, ended up fired from his job," Bobby told Logan as he crossed that question off his list.

Logan gave him a look as he took a moment to refocus. "I'll verify with him later about what you two did that evening, but you can tell me now."

"We drank a lot of beer and played a lot of video games. I think we even ordered a pizza around…midnight, I'm not sure, but I paid with a credit card. After we ran out of beer, we opened his bottle of vodka and headed up to the roof of his building. I don't remember much after that. I woke up around two Wednesday afternoon in the recliner with a horrible back ache. I got cleaned up there and headed to the courthouse. Rob was still asleep when I left."

"Does he work?" Bobby asked, interrupting Logan's questioning.

"He had to have shoulder surgery a few weeks ago and he's still out on medical."

"How'd he hurt his shoulder?" Logan asked, regaining control of the interview.

Zach laughed a little as he said, "He thought he could haul up a stove on his own five flights. He called me crying like a girl when he dislocated his shoulder. I found him in the stairwell, minus the stove. Someone jacked it from him while he waited for help."

Bobby couldn't help but laugh causing Logan to smirk a little. "That sucks."

"Tell me about it, I went in half on the payment."

"You must be a good friend to do something like that," Logan said.

Zach shrugged then explained, "He just rented a two bedroom and I'm planning on moving in with him once everything settles down, or until being at home again starts to drive me crazy. He's trying to get me on where he works too, so…It was the least I could do."

Bobby interrupted Logan again as he asked, "He also drafts residential housing, or something else?"

"Machines and equipment, but we both freelance for a number of things. He can do buildings just the same as I can do what he does, even vehicles and airplanes."

"Be nice to design for the auto industry," he said with a smile.

Zach smiled too as he gave a nod. "That'll be cool."

Looking over at Logan, he saw the stern look in his eyes and held up his hands. "Sorry," Bobby said as he sat back in the chair and gestured for Logan to continue. "I just find it fascinating. I've always wanted to design something, especially my own car and get it, you know, actually built. The closest I've come is helping my buddy put my car together, or, uh…making models. Seeing your blueprints, all your hard work, being built from the ground up, or a preexisting design being converted into your design, that must be…exhilarating."

"It's the best feeling in the world, I think. Well, next closest thing to becoming a father, I would imagine. I doubt there's anything that can compare to creating a life," Zach told him with all sincerity.

"Are you a father?"

Zach shook his head. "Not yet, but hopefully at some point. I want to be a dad."

"Can I get back to my questioning, please," Logan asked as he looked between the two of them.

Bobby shrugged again, saying, "I'm not stopping you. You can cut in at any time."

"I'm not going to spend time cutting in when you can do what I did with your questioning session, and leave," Logan told him as he gave him a glare.

Bobby looked over at Zach who shrugged. "All right," he said as he got up. Picking up his binder, he saw no other questions left on his list. Shutting it, he held out his hand and shook Zach's hand, thanking him for coming in, and then left.

Whatever else Logan had to ask Zach didn't pertain to his case, so he didn't let it bother him too much that he was kicked out. Going toward his desk, he spotted Deakins in his office reviewing a file and signing his name at the bottom.

Tapping on the doorframe, he walked in as he dug through his binder for the file he was looking for. Once he found it, he handed it over to Deakins, telling him, "I need that signed before I head over to SVU."

Deakins took the file and flipped it open. One glance at it, he lowered the file and leaned back in his chair, "This is verification of a temporary transfer."

Giving a nod, Bobby said, "Right. You said I could work-"

"A joint investigation."

Bobby shifted in his stance before sitting down. "Captain, I'm not sure how long this is going to take, and…" He didn't know how he could tell Deakins that he wasn't sure if he wanted to stay with Major Case. Rubbing at his head, he said, "This would make it easier. I can temporary transfer to SVU; it's an entirely voluntary unit and I volunteer myself to work there for the duration of this case."

Deakins regarded him for a long moment before he leaned on his desk, asking, "Is there something you're not telling me, Bobby? If this is because you can't work with Alex any longer or-"

"Captain," Bobby said, cutting him off, "I'm not sure what this is, if it's anything other than needing more time to straighten everything out, I don't know. All I know is that this would make everything simpler…I hear they're short-handed over at Special Victim's, they could use the help."

Sighing heavily, Deakins picked up his pen and read over the form before reluctantly signing his name at the bottom. Once he signed his name, he handed it back to him, saying, "You also need to get the Chief's signature, and if he agrees then I guess if you need anything else, you know my number."

Taking the file folder, he put it back in his binder as he stood. "Thanks, Captain."

"Is Eames and Logan good with this? I'm going to have to stick Logan with her for a while longer."

"They're working good together, don't you think?"

"Surprising well, actually," Deakins told him as he stood and headed to the door with him. "Good luck, you're going to need it."

Smiling slightly he left the office and stepped up to his desk. He gathered up what was necessary out of his drawers before throwing his overcoat over his arm. If the Chief signed off on the temporary transfer, he wouldn't be back in that squad room for a while. As he headed out, he saw Logan on the phone at his desk and the interview room empty.

Stopping by Logan's desk, he asked, "Anything?"

Logan glanced up at him and shook his head. "The kid knew nothing. Are you heading over to SVU now?"

"Yeah, I'll, uh…I'll see you later, all right?" he said as he started for the hall.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," Logan said as he went back to the talking to whoever it was on the phone.

Bobby didn't bother to tell him that he wouldn't be seeing him tomorrow as he headed down the hallway and around the corner to the elevator.

* * *

><p><em><span>Office of ADA Alec Gardner<span>_

The moment she spotted Ileana Peltier she shook her head and rolled her eyes. No wonder Bobby had used her first name and mentioned that she was French. The woman was tall, blond hair, and beautiful. Her dress was short, revealing way too much leg and it plunged in the back and front. It didn't leave very much to the imagination, but it wasn't unlike something she wouldn't buy, just never would she dare to wear it to work.

Miss Peltier was waiting for her as she paced around the reception area. When she spotted her holding up her shield, she sighed and waved her arms around, "I've been waiting her for almost an hour."

Alex walked over to her as she handed out the warrant and put her shield back on her belt. "There were some last minute changes to the warrant. I'm to have full access to not only Gardner's office and computer but also your area and computer as well."

The woman snagged up the warrant as she asked, "Why? I didn't do anything," she protested as she opened the warrant and read it over.

Alex looked over her shoulder and waved the officers and CSU team inside. As they swarmed around the two offices, Miss Peltier kept protesting and yelling at the tech who was shutting down her laptop and placing it into a box.

"Hey, you can't just-"

"Yes, he can," Alex told her as she pulled out a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on. "This is no longer a missing persons, but a murder investigation."

The woman gapped as she looked over at her. Gasping out, she said, "He's dead!" Then the tears started and her near panic.

Just great, Alex thought as she steered the grieving woman over to the couch along the opposite wall. Where was Goren when she needed him? He would be able to comfort her and get some information at the same time.

"Miss Peltier-"

"Please, call me Ileana," she told her as she sucked in deep breaths.

Alex wanted to roll her eyes but that would be highly inconsiderate in a moment like this. The woman did just find out that her boss was dead, murdered. "Ileana we need to confirm your whereabouts Tuesday night."

Ileana looked up at her through red rimmed eyes and asked, "Am I a suspect?"

"No, it's just for clarification purposes."

"Oh, I was home alone."

Alex highly doubted that for some reason. "Alone? Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," she told her as she closed her eyes to steady her breathing. "I live alone, detective."

"You didn't go out on a date, or receive any phone calls at home?"

Shaking her head, she told her, "It was a quiet night. I knew Alec would be busy going over the case for the indictment so I didn't bother calling him."

"What about Wednesday?"

"Wednesday I was here and then at the courthouse."

Alex gave a nod as she looked around. At spotting the video camera in the corner, she asked, "does that record?"

Ileana looked up in the corner and nodded, "Of course. Our security company put those in every office and hallway over the summer after a man who was suspected of killing his wife got pass security with a gun."

"I remember that," Alex told her as she told a CSI to find the security office where the video feed from this room was recorded, as well as ADA Gardner's office. Turning back to Ileana, she asked, "I need you to stay here until the warrant is fully executed and then you can leave."

As she headed into Gardner's office, she heard Logan's voice coming from the other room. She had called him to let him know that the warrant was good to go and to get to the courthouse as soon as possible.

"One would think Gardner was killed in here with how many CSI's and uniforms hanging around," he said as he secured his shield to his jacket lapel.

"You take the desk while I take the file cabinets?"

Logan rounded the desk and sat down in Gardner's chair. "Fine by me, I get to sit while I do my search. His laptop's missing."

Alex went to open the file cabinet when it caught, locking it place. "Damn. While you're searching for anything incriminating, find me the key to this thing."

Logan glanced up at her and smirked. "Nice one, Eames. Maybe it's on his key chain, which is in evidence with half the keys melted."

"Right," she sighed and looked back at the cabinet. "Anyone have a crowbar?"

A CSI, one that Bobby knew by name but she didn't, told her, "We have one in the van, Detective Eames. I'll get it for you."

"Thanks," she told him as she opened the closet door and sighed at the amount of case file boxes and newspapers that were piled on top of each other. "Great, a hoarder. He has a computer and a filing room for a reason."

"What reason is that?" Logan asked as he lifted a handful of files out of the desk and started to shuffle through them.

"To eliminate clutter and make it easier for us cops to search for evidence."

"I bet Goren's a hoarder," Logan teased.

Alex turned to him and said, "He claims that everything he keeps is for a purpose, like solving a case. He has things sitting in his desk for no apparent reason until he has to use it to determine a theory of his." She heard her ringtone go off, singling that she'd received a text message. Taking it out, she saw that it was from Bobby.

"It's hoarding no matter the reason."

"Well, I can't argue there," she said as she read the text. Bobby was letting her know that they wouldn't be going out tonight to the bar; he was too tired and heading home straight from SVU. "He does have a collection of newspapers in his closest dating back to 1993."

Logan looked up at her as he asked in all seriousness, "Really?"

Alex gave a huff of a laugh as she put her phone back in her pocket and said, "Really. And a single box with newspapers going back to the second world war which belonged to his father."

"Wow, I was only joking, but…that's just weird." Logan went back to searching through the files. "I haven't found a single one pertaining to the Patterson case."

"Maybe Miss Congeniality has them," she snarked as the CSI guy returned with the crowbar.

"No, they would have been with him if he took the case home to review it. They were either burnt up in the car or they're still missing."

Alex took the crowbar and used it to break open the file cabinet. "And even if they are still missing, it doesn't mean that he was killed because of that case. It could be any of these cases."

"We have twelve years worth of grudges to sort through, Eames."

"Then let's start at most recent and work backwards. We'll also see who's up for parole, who's out on parole, and if there's been any recent threats on his life." She heard her cell phone ring and quickly pulled it out. Answering, "Eames," as she pulled out the file handful of files. "They what? That's great. Yeah, have the lab get started right on it right away." Alex hung up the phone as she shook her head and looked over at a confused looking Logan. "You would never guess what they found after they cleared Franklin Avenue of all that flood water."

"What?"

"Gardner's briefcase containing his laptop, case files, and cell phone."

"The holy grail," Logan smiled as he leaned back in Gardner's office chair with a sigh. "I have a feeling this case is going to bust wide open with this. Who found it?"

"A jogger out on his run. It was on the side of the road in the bushes along the inlet."

Logan got up as he told the uniform at the door, "You got the scene. Have CSU box up everything, all his files, clean the place out, and take it all back to 1PP."

"I've got it, detective," the uniform told him as Logan led her out of the office.

Eames didn't bother protesting them leaving the office. The laptop and the cell phone were the most important items to be found on this case so far, besides the body. They were top priority and their main focus as they headed out of the building and back to 1PP.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

As soon as she walked into the apartment, she knew something was up. The lights were turned down low and there was music softly drifting through the air. Alex smiled and shook her head as she entered the kitchen. Bobby had definitely surprised her. Setting her purse on the table and then shrugging off her coat, she spotted a red rose taped to the entryway to the living room with a note attached to it.

Taking the rose, which she realized was made of plastic, along with the note off the frame she went to take a step when she read the first word on the note. It said 'Stop!', then, 'Look down and follow.'

Alex frowned as she stepped back and then looked at the floor. "You've got to be kidding me," she said with a smile before chuckling.

On the floor, leading in a line for her to follow, were Hershey's Kisses. Picking them up as she went, she followed the individually wrapped pieces of chocolate all the way through the living room, down the hallway, and _not_ to the closed bedroom door as she expected, but instead to the closed bathroom door. The doors being closed were important because they always left them open when they were gone.

There was another plastic red rose taped to the door but no note, however, she ventured a guess that she had to open that door so she grabbed the knob and turned. The moment she pushed the door open, her jaw nearly dropped.

Lighted candles were everywhere: along the counters, circling around the tub, and lining the edge of the tub against the wall. Her radio that she had put in the bathroom when she moved it was on and softly playing a CD she'd mixed that was full of her favorite romantic songs. Right then Billy Joel's 'She's Got A Way' was playing and she had to smile at the lyrics.

Sitting on a stand next to the tub was a bottle of her favorite red wine with a wine glass already filled waiting for her along with a wrapped box and a red envelope with her name on it. As she stepped further into the room, she could see inside the tub as tears filled her eyes. The tub was filled with water and what appeared to be hundreds of real red rose petals.

Another note was taped to the edge of the tub but no rose. Lifting it up, she took the note in hand and read it. '_Now that I have kissed the ground you walk on, and showered you with roses, will you forgive me by still being my one and only valentine?'_

She felt a hand on her shoulder before his arm was around her waist, and then his voice in her ear.

"Well, what is your answer?"

Smiling through the tears in her eyes, she turned in his arms and kissed him.

"I take that as a yes," he said with a slight smile on his face. "The bath water was burning hot when I filled it so it should be perfectly warm by now…Enjoy it, okay."

"You're not joining me?"

"I would love to, but if I get in I'll fall asleep. Besides, I don't mind letting you have this to yourself," he told her before kissing her again. "We'll do something together tomorrow, after the craziness of the holiday dies down. Tonight is for you to relax and have a quiet evening. And," he said as he reached behind him to pick something off the floor. It was her strainer. "You can use this to clean out the roses when you're done, or come get me and I'll do it," he told her with a wink, causing her to smile.

"Okay, I'll do that, but before you go can I ask you why only two roses? And plastic?"

Bobby smiled as he told her, "One rose for every year we've been together as a couple, and the reason they're plastic is so that they won't die. I want to keep adding to them…year after year. Who knows, maybe we'll make it to twelve….What'd you think?"

Alex could only nod as she couldn't speak. In all the years she had known him, been with him, that was the most loving, and romantic thing he'd ever said, that proved to her that he was actually hoping, and wanting, their relationship to last. "I think twelve is a good number to shoot for," she finally managed to say as she pushed up on her toes to kiss him again.

When she ended the kiss, Bobby gave her another smile as he left the room and went back into the bedroom. "I've got the door," he told her as she gave a nod and turned around as she begun to undress for her bath.

Getting into the tub, she let out a deep sigh and relaxed as she felt all the tension that'd built up after days of stress ease. After popping a chocolate into her mouth, she picked up the red envelope and opened it. Inside was a Valentine's card profusely love to the reader through gold cursive letters. It was too sappy for Bobby to ever say himself, but it brought a smile to her lips. Opening the card, she only saw 'Love Bobby' written at the bottom of the card; however, she was rewarded with two new gift cards.

One was for $500 at her favorite lingerie store in Manhattan, which was very expensive and across from Central Park on 5th Avenue, and the other was for a free ear-piercing. That one made her sit up as she looked at it. Then her eyes went to the box next to the wine bottle. Picking up the box and putting the cards down, she opened it and her breath caught.

She remembered talking to Bobby about wanting to get her ears pierced again, and the kind of earrings she would get if she did. It had been last month, when they were hardly speaking or even being together. She had said it in passing, while they were both on the couch watching something on the TV, and she hadn't thought that he had heard her.

He had not only heard her but remember and knew exactly what kind of earrings she'd been talking about because they were sitting in that box. Looking at the closed bathroom door, she wrinkled her forehead in confusion as she noticed a silk gown that hadn't been there before. It was the only thing hanging on the back of the door and it had a bow wrapped around it.

Shaking her head, and then laughing at her man's antics, she picked up the wine glass and took a sip before leaning back in the tub as she closed her eyes and just enjoyed the precious time she had to unwind.

Awhile later, she dried off and slipped on her new silk gown and wrapped it around her body. Perfect fit, and it was so comfortable. She opened the door and headed into the bedroom. At not seeing Bobby in there, she headed down the hall and saw the study door shut. Giving a knock, she opened it and found him sprawled out on the pullout couch asleep. On the desk was a bottle of Tylenol PM and half a glass of water.

Sighing, she put the bottle back down as she walked over to the pullout and sat on the edge. Leaning over, she gave him a kiss on his cheek before getting up and leaving the room, making sure to close the door behind her.

Bobby could definitely be a stubborn man at times, but she knew as long as they kept figuring out how to make this work, ten more years together would be worth it.

TBC…


	8. Tuesday, February 15th, 2005

A/N: Thanks for the reviews.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

He was in the middle of reading an article in the newspaper when he heard Alex walk into the kitchen. Not taking his eyes off what he was reading, he asked, "Did you enjoy your evening?"

"Are you kidding? Nine hours of uninterrupted sleep was better than sex."

Bobby chuckled as he felt her hands on his shoulders, giving them a soft rub. "I think for once I can agree with that." He felt a kiss placed on his head and he felt her hand run along his neck and then his jaw, making him tilt his head back.

Alex captured his lips in an upside down kiss that had him wanting more the moment she broke it. "I take it you actually got some sleep yourself."

"Not nine hours, but a decent five. And," he said as he closed the paper and got up from the table. Bobby opened the bottom cabinet next to the stove and brought out a box. Setting it on the counter, he said, "Another gift."

Alex smiled and shook her head at him as she moved beside him and poured a cup of coffee. "You really did get me a waffle maker."

"Logan teased me about it, called me an idiot, but what he doesn't know is your secret love affair with strawberry waffles…along with cappuccinos and expressos, and basically anything with coffee in it." Bobby grabbed a knife and started to slice through the tape on the box. "Since you cooked for me yesterday, why don't you go shower while I get breakfast started. How many of these things do you want?"

"I'll take two. Did you buy strawberries?"

"And whipped cream," he told her as he pulled out the machine and looked at it in contemplation as he figured that all he had to do was plug it in to work it.

"Even better," Alex told him as she took her cup of coffee with her out of the kitchen.

Bobby got busy making them breakfast, her waffles, pancakes for him since he didn't really care for waffles, and also some bacon and toast. By the time Alex returned, the food was done and he was once again seated at the table reading over the paper.

"How was it at SVU yesterday?"

Bobby gave a nod as he took a sip of the coffee. "Uh, good. I didn't get much done, sat at a desk all day and talked to the principal of Caleb Cunningham's high school in Alabama, also some of his teachers. I found out the reason why this kid would've been so upset with the thought of getting kicked off the basketball team because of his poor grades."

"And what's that?" Alex asked as she dished out spoonful of strawberries onto her waffles from the bowl on the table.

"At his old high school, the teachers seemed to let the athletes slide by with mediocre grades; if they maintained a C average, they were fine. Some of his teachers even admitted to me, in, uh, not so many words, that they would give the poor students a C just so they could continue playing for the team."

"It wouldn't be the first time that's happened; I thought schools did that everywhere."

"Some do…" Bobby said as he folded up the paper and tossed it down next to his plate. Looking up at her, he explained, "St. Luke's doesn't. They don't reward athletes with grades, or let them slide by. It's motive for what he did to the coach, to get back at him, for threatening to take his dream away."

"So, if Caleb was going to have his dream of playing college basketball taken away by the coach kicking him off the team, then he took the coach's life away by accusing him of sexual misconduct."

Bobby shrugged as he said, "Wouldn't be the first time. It's typical vengeance, but…" he shook his head as he rubbed at it. Getting some sleep had helped; however, it wasn't a cure. His head was still hurting, so was his gut, and his hands were less shaky but he felt the restlessness coming on. "There's something else going on with this kid. There's more to all of this. His whole…attitude, his personality, it's telling me that something else is at the source of his vengeance."

Alex shook her head at him as she said, "Maybe you're thinking too much about it. This could be a straight-forward 'he threatened me so I attacked him first' act of vengeance. It's clean, simple, and to the point."

Staring down at the table, Bobby sighed as he worked the tension out of his neck. "I'm not over thinking it. I know there's more…He's, there's something about this kid that…it's striking chords, you know. My instinct is telling me that there is something very wrong with this kid, and this case."

"Okay, what chord is he striking?" Alex asked.

Bobby had to smile as he realized what was happening. Despite the fact that they were no longer partners, over breakfast she was still able to be his most reliable sounding board. "Honestly, he's reminding me of, of a predator on the verge of becoming something more."

"And you're afraid of what this kid is going to turn into? He's displaying signs of what?"

Bobby shifted his eyes back to the table as he took a deep breath, saying, "A sociopath."

Alex swallowed down her food with a sip of coffee and then asked, "Are you sure?"

This had been what he was struggling to reason out yesterday while he spent most of his day mapping out his profile. Giving a nod, he said, "I'm sure. There's really only one way for me to figure this out, and that's to get in as close as I can to Caleb…I've got a hunch, a theory that would explain a lot of things that are currently unexplainable with the Patterson case."

Alex took a moment to think about that as he watched her finished eating. She downed the rest of her coffee and then said, "You're putting yourself undercover for this?"

"I want to, but not completely. I want to track him, conduct surveillance, and get in contact with him without disclosing that I'm a cop."

"And Deakins is agreeing to this?"

Bobby worked his jaw as he looked up at her; he hesitated before telling her, "Well, no…I, uh…I volunteered my services to SVU."

Alex stared over at him, a little wide-eyed, before saying, "You transferred without telling me."

"It's not permanent. A temporary relocation until I'm done with the case. It'll be easier this way, and it is SVU's case. I'll be working it with Stabler and Fin. Uh, Benson…"

"Liv is out with the flu. What about Munch?"

"He's on vacation and they just lost a couple of detectives to other departments so they're short on people." Bobby felt his leg start to bounce under the table as he waited for her response. He knew she would be upset that he didn't tell her about it first, but then he was afraid that he would have to tell her about his uncertainty with staying with Major Case.

Alex didn't look too happy, but she resigned herself as she nodded a little. "Great, now I'm stuck with Logan for a while longer."

Bobby smiled a little as he thought that maybe it wouldn't just be for a little while, but permanently. If he chose not to return, he could imagine that Deakins would keep them together. Then again if he did go back to Major Case, he could request to remain partner-less, letting Logan and Alex remain partners, until they got a new detective in the squad to partner him up with. He didn't think that Deakins would have any problems with that, nor would the brass.

"These cases are going to continue overlapping, are you okay with giving up on the ADA's investigation?"

Bobby smiled over at her as he said, "I trust in your abilities, and Logan's, to solve it without me. And if anything develops on my end that's important to your case, I'll let you know."

"Ditto. So, does Logan know about this?" Alex asked as she got up, taking along both of their empty plate to clean off. When he didn't answer, she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "Are you trying to push him away?"

"That would imply that he was close to me to begin with," he said as he finished off his coffee and got up. Setting the cup in the sink, he told her, "We're not friends, Alex. Logan was my partner, nothing more. Partners come and go, he'll get over it."

"What'd you mean he was? He still is."

"No, now he's your partner; when I get back to Major Case, and back on fully duty, then maybe he might be paired up with me again. I don't know."

Alex glanced over at him as she cleaned off the plate; handing it to him to rinse, she said, "You seem so certain of that. I know you, what aren't you telling me?"

He rinsed the plate and sat it in the strainer while he thought how to answer that. Finally, he told her as he took the other plate, "Let's just say I'm not giving my hopes up. If Deakins likes the way you and Logan are working together…and I'm over at SVU, what's going to stop him from keeping you two partnered up? Partners get changed around all the time, people transfer or retire…or quit. I'm preparing myself for anything. It'll be a good idea for you to do the same."

"Believe me, I think I'm well prepared. I went from you to Stone, back to you, and then Copeland, and now Logan. I feel like the revolving door for Major Case detectives."

Bobby chuckled as he took the soapy cup from her as he felt his hand start to shake. He took a firmer grip on the cup and got it rinsed and in the strainer without breaking it. A couple more glasses and one last coffee cup and they were done with the dishes. He had cleaned off the waffle maker and skillet after he'd used them.

As he grabbed all his things for work, he told her, "I saw the printouts for the apartments in Rockaway. Any in particular you like?"

"The one on Beach Crest. I took a virtual tour of it on the computer, and the price is decent. I was planning on checking it out as soon as I find the time."

"I liked that one too. How about tomorrow after my appointment we go check it out?"

Alex smiled over at him as she picked up her car keys. "Depending on the status of our cases, we'll see."

Bobby leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before leading her to the door.

"Sleep does you well," she said as he held the door open for her.

"I feel better, not a hundred percent, but better." Bobby made sure the door locked behind him then followed her out to their cars. The unseasonably warm weather was turning cold, making him dig into his overcoat for a pair of gloves. "Hey, Alex," he called out as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors.

Alex stopped at her car and looked over her shoulder at him.

"No matter what happens with our cases today, I've got plans for us tonight."

Smiling, she opened her door and got into her car as she said, "I can't wait," before shutting the door.

He watched as she left first before getting into his own car and starting the engine. As he sat in the car waiting for it to heat up, he thought about what he'd been struggling with for days now.

There were, and had been things, that he's run away from; to say he wasn't a quitter would've been a lie. He'd quit many things, gave up on a lot when it came to his personal life. However, there were also a lot that he fought for. He just knew when to choose his battles. When to fight and when to walk away.

He had walked away from so much when it came to his own happiness. He'd given up on past relationships, he'd given up on other people to be there for him. He walked away from so many people in his life without really caring too much about what it did to either of them.

What he had said to Alex about partnerships was also true to friendships, at least for him. People never stayed, and for the most part he would let them leave. He never put up a fight to keep a friendship from sinking, from fading into nothingness. With the way he got used to living alone, he was lucky to say that he had at least two, maybe three, good friendships with didn't include his relationship with Alex.

However, despite all that he has hardly fought for, he had always fought for not taking the easy way out. Call it a character flaw or a quirk or a defense mechanism, whatever it was, he had always rebelled against what was easy. If it was simple, he didn't care for it. Simple and easy and to the point never taught him anything.

Everyone he knew said that he was attracted, and addicted, to trouble. He was the first one to also agree. It explained why he would always empathize with not only the victims, but the suspects. Why he would always be pen-pals with Wally Stevens, why he would again defend a man like John Tagman. And why he would always go toe-to-toe with Nicole Wallace.

If it was hard, difficult, and maybe even completely dangerous, then he went for it and he fought through it; coming out the other side with some kind of lesson learned. Sometimes a little more wiser, other times a little more alone, but he always managed to survive.

That morning when he had woken up after only five hours of sleep, it had all seemed so clear. Clearer than anything had ever been before in his life.

He couldn't give up. He still had a lot more to fight for. And if anything comes from this experience, it would be that he learned something from it and would try very hard to never repeat it.

Despite what he had told himself yesterday, he was mentally strong enough to conquer this battle. He'd been trained and conditioned to withstand a lot of stress and damage done to not only his body but to his mind in part thanks to the military. All the other parts had come from his family, from all the factors that went into being a cop, and from his own stubborn will to never back down even when he should.

It wasn't in his nature to give into the misery and wallow. Yes, he brooded, but he had always been able to brood and do his job all at the same time. That was why yesterday, even after a rough start, he had gotten dressed and gone to work.

Working, that was his nature. He was made to work, to keep fighting no matter how hard it got, and to keep moving. To stay alive. He was a cop for a reason, and he loved being a cop. It was who he was.

Everything wasn't completely a hundred percent better. He still hurt, the pain was still there, and he was still depressed but he was also determined to not let it destroy everything he had. He could take the stress, he could take the weight, and he could still continue on. Where he continued on to, he wasn't certain; however, he knew who would be there for him along the way. He just hoped that once this was all over, that Alex would still love him, or if not, that she would still be there as a friend.

He had tried to not let this reach out and hurt her, but that was entirely beyond his control. He wasn't that guy; he wasn't the kind of man who could bow his head, and hold in his anger and thoughts, and concede to conflict or to defeat. It didn't matter how much he loved someone, if he felt he was right, he fought for it even when he was dead wrong. He fought against his mother, his father, his brother, God, everyone, including Alex.

There were some things he just could not do. He wasn't entirely descent, he wasn't entirely a gentleman, he wasn't entirely the most agreeable or understanding man in the world, or the most respectful. He had limits, he had flaws and faults, he had a mind and a will of his own, and he had a lot of damage done, and he had done a lot of damage.

He has lied, cheated, and killed. He has thought the most disturbing thoughts known to man. He has been tempted and he has lusted…He has cursed himself and God and he has hated as well as loved. He has been the most self-centered person in the world at times.

He remembered telling a woman suspect once, during his first year as Alex's partner, that she was HIV positive. It was a lie, and he had let a woman believe for over two days that she was going to die. He didn't care what kind of misery he put that woman through. She could've turned suicidal for all he knew and killed her boyfriend, like that woman did who killed her father after he told her that her father was having an affair with a man, her boyfriend.

He had done a lot of wrong, lied to a lot of people, ruined lives because all he cared about was getting to the truth, of catching the bad guy. He had to lie to get to the truth. That was his reasoning behind so many things he'd done in his life, both on and off the job.

And was he sorry for any of it? Nope, because he would do it all over again today, and tomorrow, and the next day.

He wasn't a saint. He wasn't God's gift to women. He was just a man. And there were times when he looked at himself in the mirror and saw a man he didn't recognize. There were times he saw a man he respected, and then there were times when he saw a man he hated more than anything.

He finally reached out and shifted the car into gear as he thought that as long as Alex kept seeing a man that she loved, that was worth her time and effort, then maybe in time he could look in the mirror and finally see a man that he could also love…

Or at least be content with.

* * *

><p><em><span>Major Case Squad<span>_

As she walked into the squad room, she immediately noticed a change. For one, Logan was nowhere in sight, and two, someone had taken up residence at the desk across from hers. Alex looked around and saw no one she didn't recognize, no one was in the Captain's office, and upon further inspection the desk that Logan had been using was cleared off.

"Don't worry, it's just me," Logan said as he walked in from the hallway. In his hands were a few printouts and a CD case. "Deakins changed my seating arrangement this morning." He sat the printouts on the desk across from her and held up the disk. "They were able to get some stuff off of Gardner's laptop, they're still working on the phone."

"And the case files are a wash?"

"Unfortunately salt water tends to destroy paper. The only thing that saved the laptop was the plastic case it was in, along with the extra concealment from the briefcase," Logan said as he handed her the CD. "Have at it, partner."

Alex took the CD from him as she gave him a look.

"Another change made this morning. As of now, we're official." Logan gave her a look and then said, "Deakins told me about Goren's temp transfer to SVU this morning. The next time I see your boyfriend, I'm kicking his ass."

Looking to Deakins office, she saw him on the phone with the door closed. She didn't know how to feel about this change. They were working good together, and Bobby was now over at SVU…Taking a breath, she sat down at her desk and got to work as she told Logan, "Just don't kick it too hard, he's in enough pain already."

"I also brought up Miss Peltier's laptop," Logan said as he picked it up out of one of the evidence boxes from the ADA's office. He placed it between their desks before taking out a handful of files. "I'll start on all this."

Alex booted up her laptop as her desk phone shrilled. Picking it up, she answered, "Eames."

"Yes, Detective Eames, this is Jeff Foster, Bobby's friend."

"Oh, yes, Jeff, are you trying to reach Bobby?"

"Actually he told me to call you about it since it's your case. I found the information he wanted about any property recently bought by ADA Alec Gardner. I found two recent purchases and one rental. One purchase was a house in Maryland, the D.C. area, the other two are in Manhattan. He bought a four story brownstone and rented out storage space."

"Tell me about both here in Manhattan," Alex said as she popped the disk into the department issue laptop and waited for it to scan and open.

"No real surprise with either. The brownstone, it's one of those historical buildings in Hamilton Heights that's undergoing renovations. And then you have the storage space."

"Addresses?" After Alex wrote down both of the addresses, realizing that they were both located in Hamilton Heights, she thanked him.

"Anytime, Detective."

Once she hung up, Alex smiled over at Logan. "Three purchases; one in Maryland, but two here. A brownstone and space at a storage facility, both in Hamilton Heights. The brownstone is off 138th street, and the storage facility is off 136th."

Logan got up as he said, "That's only blocks from the dump site."

Alex was up as she closed the top screen to the laptop and handed it off to Logan. "While I drive, you can see what's on that disk," she told him as she grabbed her coat and pulled out her cell phone. "I'll also give Carver a call and get a warrant en-route."

* * *

><p><em><span>Special Victim's Unit<span>_

When he had been at SVU yesterday, Elliot and Fin had both been in court all day so he never had the chance to talk to them about anything. Captain Cragen had basically given him a desk to use and told him to stay at it until it was time to leave. He hadn't said that in so many words, but Cragen didn't have to say anything for him to understand what he wanted done. That man had looks that spoke volumes.

As he rounded the corner and entered the room full of detectives, he heard Cragen call out for him. Bobby sat his cup of coffee down on the desk that was to be his as he headed to the Captain's office. Looking inside as he approached, he saw both Elliot and Fin waiting. Walking in the office, he closed the door and greeted the men with a left-handed hand shake, and a pat on the shoulder to Fin.

Cragen sat behind his desk while he did the same in an empty chair by the door while Fin stood. Elliot sat in a chair in front of the desk. "I called you all in here to explain what's going on, and then Detective Goren can fill us in with what he's working on," he said as he gave him a look.

Yesterday, Bobby had mentioned to Cragen about wanting to go undercover, and to work surveillance on Caleb Cunningham. All Cragen told him was that he would think about it, and then for him to go home. Now, he wondered if he had come to a decision.

"As of yesterday," Cragen was saying, "Detective Goren has been temporary reassigned to Special Victims."

Elliot glanced over at him, giving him a weird look, before saying, "Why?"

Bobby smirked at that as he twisted his hands together when he felt them start to shake.

Cragen continued, and in doing so, answered Elliot's question, "Goren has uncovered some additional evidence while he was working on the disappearance, and now murder, of ADA Alec Gardner. He has requested to take over the Guy Patterson case, and instead of letting Major Case handle the investigation which would have taken it away from SVU, he decided to volunteer to work with us. Thus, joining our team."

Elliot glared over at him as he asked, "You think Patterson's innocent?"

Bobby took a glance over at his friend as he gave a nod, saying, "Yeah, I do. I, uh…" he looked to Cragen who leaned on his desk, giving him a chance to explain himself. "During the course of my investigation, I looked at the evidence that you and Benson obtained, I went to Patterson's house and spoke to him, met his family, and then I went and talked to Caleb Cunningham. Then yesterday, I interviewed Patterson's son, Zach, and then spoke to teachers, the principle at Caleb's high school in Alabama….Through all my interviews, and what I could gain from the evidence, I believe that Coach Patterson is innocent. I think that Caleb Cunningham set him up, accused him of this crime-"

"There were four other boys who came forward."

"With no proof," Bobby countered him. "All ADA Gardner had to go on was their word. It was a he said/he said case from the very beginning. The one piece of actual evidence is circumstantial at best."

Elliot looked pissed a hell but instead of trying to defend his own investigative work, he seemed to slump in the chair. Then, he admitted, "That's what I told Gardner."

Bobby looked over at him as he asked, "But he went ahead to indict anyway?"

Elliot nodded, saying, "I admit that maybe my own emotions lead me to be biased, but Gardner seemed to have a vendetta against Patterson from the beginning. I knew that the evidence was slim, that it was circumstantial with no weight. The media was all over it and it spun out of control and before we knew it, it was going to the Grand Jury."

"Does he normally handle your cases?"

"No," Cragen said, then telling him, "You remember ADA Casey Novak. When this case hit, her caseload was maxed out, she was juggling three court cases, and so she couldn't handle anymore. Gardner stepped in."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he thought about that, saying, "You mean he offered himself up to take the case."

"The minute the scandal broke he was in here like an accident lawyer chasing an ambulance," Fin said, verifying his thought.

"Then it's safe to say that maybe the ADA did have a vendetta against the high school coach?" Bobby asked as he looked around the room.

"I can agree to that," Elliot said as he sighed heavily and looked to his Captain. "I'm assuming that me and Fin are working this with Goren since Liv and John are both out."

Cragen gave a curt nod then said, "You are, now get to work."

They all stood up to leave the office, Bobby turned and asked Cragen, "Have you thought about, uh, what I asked yesterday?"

"I'm still considering it. If you provide me with enough to validate your reasoning and so I can defend it when presenting it to the Chief for authorization…" Cragen left the rest for to figure out for himself.

Bobby sighed as he left the office. He knew that it was the best way to conduct this investigation, but of course it always came down to red tape and authorizations. Going over to his desk, he picked up his cup of coffee as he walked over to Elliot's desk and sat down in Benson's chair. "She won't mind, will she?"

"I don't think so. Just don't let her catch you sitting there when she returns. You really pissed her off the other day when you were here."

"She didn't tell you about it?"

Elliot shook his head as picked up his blue stress ball and started squeezing it. "I didn't ask and she was too pissed off to tell me. I think she called Alex and talked to her about it though."

Bobby flipped his binder open as he opened the laptop that was on the desk. He typed in his email address and password to access the NYPD database. Glancing over at Elliot, he told him, "You got Patterson's daughter's name wrong; it's Elise, not Chloe."

Elliot narrowed his eyes in thought as he said, "She told me her name was Chloe."

Bobby glanced over at him in confusion. "What's her full name?" Elliot gave him a shrug as he realized that neither one of them knew the answer to that. He turned to the computer as he picked up the phone.

"So what's my role in this investigation," Fin asked as he walked over to the desks.

Bobby pulled out two case files and handed one to each of them. "Right now, I guess to read up on what I've got. I'm pretty much stalled until I can convince your Captain to go to bat for me to conduct surveillance on this kid and go undercover."

"Undercover as what?" Fin asked as he flipped open the folder.

"Uh, as a friend?" Bobby said with a shrug. "To not have to disclose to Caleb that I'm a cop."

Fin gave him a smile as he shook his head, telling him, "I can't believe you volunteered to work here instead of Major Case. Whatever the reason, I'm glad you decided to not make this a turf war."

Bobby watched as Fin went back over to his desk as the phone stopped ringing and a woman answered. Five minutes later, he had the birth certificates of Guy and Audrey Patterson's children up on the computer. "Okay, her full name is Chloe Elise Patterson, date of birth March 4th, 1988. She was born here in the city. She'll be seventeen."

"She's autistic so maybe the reason she told me her name was Chloe was because it is her name," Elliot reasoned.

"Yeah, or because only her family calls her by her middle name…Implies intimacy. She could have been told by her parents to tell strangers her first name, or she herself could've associated her middle name with family only." Bobby wrote that down in the binder with no reason as to why, but it was something that interested him. Looking at the son's birth certificate, he said, "Zachary Isaac Patterson, born August 23rd, 1979...in Washington D.C…"

"Is that where the mother is from?" he asked as he tossed the blue stress ball up in the air.

"No, she's from here…Attended St. Luke's high school. She's Catholic, could've gone to Georgetown for college."

"Go Bulldogs," he said as he tossed the ball again and caught it. "Where did Guy go to college?"

"Did you do any research at all for this case?" Bobby asked as he typed Guy Patterson's information into the database then hit the search button.

Elliot glanced over at him as he said, "This was a child sex abuse case. Where the coach went to college wasn't exactly one of my main concerns."

Bobby closed his eyes as he thought back to Patterson's house. He remembered seeing family photos everywhere in the house, but there had been one on the mantle…It was of Guy and another man, and they were toasting their drinks. In the foreground of the picture was a banner…It was a class reunion and the name of the university… "There was a picture in his house. Patterson was in it with another guy, and in the background was a reunion banner …It's Colombia University's Teachers College. It was for the graduating class of 1984...Graduate school."

"Four years undergrad plus four years in graduate school, that sounds about right," Elliot said and then added, "Zach was born at the start of his senior year as an undergrad."

Bobby brought up the marriage certificate that was on file for Guy and Audrey. Checking the date, he wrote it down as he said, "They married in December of 1979."

"I'm surprised that they didn't want to be married before the kid was born. I did that when Kathy told me she was pregnant."

Bobby glanced over at him and smiled a little. "I thought devout Catholics waited until marriage."

Elliot started chuckling as he told him, "I'm not that devout."

Giving into curiosity, he flipped through the file he had on ADA Gardner and pulled out the list Alex had given him on his alumni associations and charity works. Scanning the sheet, Bobby nearly laughed as he said, "Guess who else went to Georgetown?"

Elliot caught the ball as he sat up in the chair. "Gardner?"

"And he also went to St. Luke's, graduated with both Guy and Audrey."

"So instead of following the future father of her child to Colombia, she goes to Georgetown?"

Bobby smiled as he said, "Maybe in 1976 Audrey had thought another man was going to be the future father to her child."

"If that's true, and she spent four years in D.C. with Alec Gardner before getting with Guy Patterson…"

"The question is, are we sure that Zach is actually Patterson's son?"

Elliot shook his head. "Even so, what does this have to do with our case?"

Bobby shrugged as he flipped open his cell phone. "I don't know, but it definitely means something to Gardner's." When he heard Alex answer her cell, he asked, "Care to have lunch with me and Stabler?"

"Love to; I'll bring Logan along so he doesn't feel left out. It'll have to be in a few hours, we're on our way to check out a couple of perspective crime scenes. Your friend Jeff, he found three recent purchases, two here in New York; a brownstone and a storage unit."

He printed all the pages he needed off the computer, saying, "Sounds good, uh…good luck with that. And I'll see you in a few hours." After hanging up, he gathered his files as Elliot got up to collect the papers from the printer. When he returned with the printouts, Bobby asked him, "What if I get Dr. Huang on my side?"

"I'm sure that if you can convince Huang that your profile is solid, and that this Cunningham kid is a threat…" Elliot shrug as he told him, "I don't see Cragen ignoring that."

"Uh, good, because I'm going to need you to get Huang here by this afternoon."

Elliot smirked as he reached over and picked up his desk phone. He dialed a number and then after a few short seconds, said into the phone, "Dr. Huang, this is Elliot Stabler…" He listened for a moment and then answered, "A case, but it's complicated. We need you to look over a profile. Yeah, it's being developed by Detective Robert Goren from-" He looked over at him and said, "The same guy…Okay, thanks." When he hung up the phone, he smiled over at him, saying, "Your reputation precedes you. The moment I mentioned your name he said he'd be right over."

Bobby smirked slightly as he remembered his last meeting with the FBI forensic psychiatrist. It had been the case that led to Alex's kidnapping. It had also been when him and Elliot, over the course of the joint investigation, became friends.

"Is there a Goren here?"

Bobby looked up at the use of his name and spotted a detective across the room at the fax machine. "Yeah, right here," he called out as he got up.

"Faxes here for you," the detective told him as he approached.

"Thanks," he said as he took the sheets, about eighty in all, and headed to his assigned desk instead of using Benson's again.

"What'd you got," Elliot called over to him as he leaned back in his chair so he could see him.

Bobby held up the sheets in both hands as he told him, "Caleb's high school records from St. Mary's in Mobile. They had emailed me his grades and attendance record from the past three years…but his personal record hadn't been inputted into their computer database yet so they had to fax it to me."

"Personal record of what?"

"Suspensions, history of fighting and aggressive behavior toward other students, truancy, breaking of the rules, counseling since he was in the ninth grade, with indicators of previous counseling going back to '99. He would've been eleven, or twelve then." Bobby shuffled through the record and saw a lot of himself in this kid; it was frightening. "He maintained a C average, with his only B coming from Gym class."

"How'd you get a B in Gym," Elliot asked as his phone started to ring.

"I got a F in Gym."

Elliot gave him a strange look as he picked up his phone, answering, "Stabler…That's fine Dr. Huang, we were planning on going to lunch soon anyway. Two o'clock would be good. Okay."

Bobby listened into on the one-sided conversation as he skimmed over the nearly eighty sheets filled with indicators of a common juvenile disorder, especially for trouble teenage boys, called Conduct Disorder. If left untreated or addressed, it could manifest into something more dangerous. A lot of criminals developed from such behavior as teenagers. Also a lot of sociopaths.

Getting up, he went back over to Benson's desk to use the laptop again. Bobby really needed to check one out for himself, but he could do that later.

"You got something," Elliot asked as he picked up the file he'd handed him earlier and flipped through it.

Bobby glanced overt at him as he said, "Oh, yeah, I got something." He searched the police database for any record on Caleb Cunningham. A few seconds later he was rewarded with a rap sheet going back to 1999. There wasn't a lot, but what was there spoke volumes. At least for him as he printed it off and jumped up to grab the sheet off the printer. "I'm guessing you also didn't run a background check on Caleb Cunningham in Alabama?"

Elliot leaned forward on the desk as he told him, "I only check for here in New York. He popped?"

"Two counts of arson, one in '99, the other in 2000. Breaking and entering in '03. Two counts of assault in '04, along with one for shoplifting, three for trespassing, and finally illegal use of alcohol and damage to private property," Bobby read off as he tossed the sheet on top of his binder. "And whose to say what else he's done that he was never been arrested for. Most of these were plead down to community service, a short one month stint in juve for the under age drinking and damage to private property. He started to receive counseling as part of his probation starting in '99. His last was in 2004, and once his probation was over, they moved up here."

"Maybe his mother thought that the change would help?" Elliot said as he reached over and picked up the sheet.

"For some reason I highly doubt that her main concern was moving her troubled son to New York," he said as he sat back down and typed in Caleb's mother's name. Meredith Ann Cunningham. When nothing popped for the mother in the state of Alabama, he ran as search on her across the board. Since when he got nothing, he sighed and rubbed his head as he leaned back in the chair and looked over at Elliot.

Elliot was looking right back at him as he said, "This is a dangerous kid."

Giving a nod, Bobby said, "I know. Now all I have to do is convince your Captain of that, and we can get started on proving it. And of clearing Coach Patterson by proving that Caleb lied."

Looking at his watch, Elliot said, "Let's wrap this up and go get some food."

Pulling out his cell phone, he sent a text to Alex as he stood.

* * *

><p><em><span>658 W. 138<span>__th__ Street_

_Hamilton Heights, Manhattan_

The slopping street that the brownstone was located on was only a few short blocks from where Gardner's body was found. It was a very nice neighborhood and quiet as they got out of the SUV and surveyed the area. Across the street were more brownstones, some townhouses, and a twenty story apartment building on the corner.

"Think if Gardner was killed here the price of the brownstone would go down, or increase?"

Alex looked up at the four story brownstone as she told him, "In today's market, I would think a home where a man died would deplete in value."

"One would think, huh?" Logan said as they ascended the stairs to the front door.

They had obtained authorization, a warrant had been faxed to 1PP for both the brownstone and the storage unit, to enter the house even if they had to break the door down to do it. While she got the SUV, Logan had stopped off in evidence to pick up what keys were left on Gardner's melted keychain, just in case one of the remaining keys fit the door.

Logan tried both, since there were only two, but neither of them worked for the brownstone. "Looks like we have to resort to other means."

"I'll check the other door," Alex told Logan as she went back down the steps.

Pushing open the gate to get to the basement door, she noticed bars on the basement windows and a gated door in front of the basement door. She gave a pull on the gated door and was surprised when it opened, giving her access to the other door. Turning at the knob, she felt it give and she immediately pulled out her gun. "Open door," she called out to Logan.

He immediately appeared behind her with his gun out. Giving a nod, Alex turned back to the door and reached out to open it. The door swung and banged off the wall as she entered with Logan right behind her. It was dark, with only the sunlight streaming through the door to illuminate the area in front of her.

Alex pulled her flashlight from her coat and clicked it on as she went from room to room and making sure to stay as close to the walls as possible. So far so good as she realized that the basement of the brownstone was recently being renovated. There were wooden frames up where a wall was going to go. Some walls were up but awaiting the drywall to complete it. She could smell fresh paint, cleaners, and something else as she came upon a partly jarred door.

Using her foot to push it open, it revealed a bathroom. Going further down a newly built hallway that still had blue tape covering the base and ceiling from the recent paint job, she came upon a closed door. Reaching out, she turned the handle and pushed it open and was rewarded with a sight. There was no obvious evidence that it was the room Gardner was killed in. However, from the half laid cement and framework that was partly built into the floor, she would bet money that she had just found their kill site.

The room had been cleaned out because there were no equipment laying around, which meant no nail gun. "Clear!" she called out as she headed back down the hallway and through the maze of wooden frames and partly put up drywall.

Across from the door that led outside was a staircase which went up to the first floor of the brownstone. She started up the stairs as she heard Logan's voice call from just inside the door she pushed open into the kitchen.

"Clear!" Logan called out as he rounded the corner, nearly running right into her. He jumped back and groaned, "You scared me."

Alex pointed down the steps, telling him, "He was killed down there. I found the room, minus the nail gun." She pulled out her cell phone as she asked him, "Anything?"

"Nothing. This place has been cleaned recently. I smell a lot of bleach and pledge."

"I'll get CSU out here, maybe they can pick something up," she said as she placed the call to their central dispatch. After she hung up, she asked, "You check all the other floors?"

"Not yet; I've got two more to go," Logan told her as he pointed with his gun toward the staircase. "After you."

Alex would have made a smartass remark about that, but she understood from a tactical point of view how her going first made sense. Her and Bobby did it all the time. It wasn't because she was a hard charger and always wanted to be the first one in, but because since he was taller, he could see over her and could cover them both better than she could. Plus, people always looked directly in front of them and since she could kneel down, get shorter to the ground, it gave them an advantage to catch the bad guy off guard.

Logan thought the same way so it didn't bother her in the least as he let her go in front of her as they started up the steps. She kept her gun and eyes trained in front of her as Logan swept right to take in the area above the staircase and up in the second floor. They stayed together as they cleared both the second and then the third floor of the brownstone.

With not finding anything or anyone, they made their way back down to the first floor. As she stepped off the stairs and into the foyer, she heard sirens blaring down the street. Alex unlocked and opened the front door to let the uniforms and the CSI's into the house.

"I'll talk to the neighbors," Logan said as he walked around her toward the door.

"It's been almost a week; if they had something to say, they would've come forward by now."

Logan shrugged, saying, "Maybe so, but it's worth a shot. You know how it is, someone might not think that what they saw was important until someone shoves a police badge in their face."

Alex followed him down the steps as she told him, "And I'll finally take a glance at that computer disk you refuse to look at while I wait."

"There's a lot of encoding and computer jargon on that thing. I don't understand that stuff."

Alex unlocked the SUV and pulled out the laptop as Logan headed up the sloped sidewalk to the next brownstone. As she searched over the contents of the computer disk, she received a text from Bobby. Checking the time, she cursed as she looked up to see Logan talking to an elderly black woman who lived across the street from their crime scene.

She responded to Bobby's text, telling him it would be at least another half hour before she could meet up. As she turned back to the laptop, a name caught her attention. Opening the file, she quickly read it over and shook her head. "Bobby's gonna love this," she muttered under her breath as she looked up again.

Logan was crossing the street, flipping his notebook closed as he approached the SUV. Getting in, he said, "A possible witness. Mrs. Roselyn Banks claims she saw two men, one black the other white, coming in and out of the brownstone through odd hours of the night over the weekend."

"How reliable is she?"

"She's ninety and it was dark. You tell me."

Alex started the engine to the SUV as she looked over at him, "At least it's something. No description other than race and possible gender."

"They were wearing clothes."

Alex rolled her eyes as she checked her mirrors and pulled out, heading down the one way toward 125th street. It would take them right by their dump site and then south. "We need to stop off and get a print off of a file on this disk," she said as she pointed to the laptop between them. "It has some information pertaining to Bobby's case."

"What about ours?"

"Ours too, but that can wait until we get back to 1PP."

* * *

><p><em><span>Luca's Pizzeria<span>_

_Hell's Kitchen, Manhattan_

Bobby looked up from sipping on his coke when he heard the door chime, indicating someone had walked into the restaurant. Alex was walking toward them, followed by Logan, and in her hand was a stack of papers and on her face was a grin as she stopped at the table and handed him the stack. "What's this?" he asked as he moved over to let her slide in next to him.

"We managed to recover bits and pieces of the hard drive on Gardner's laptop, and in one of the files was a transcript of his interview with Caleb Cunningham."

"He interviewed the kid himself?" Elliot asked as he looked offended. "Gardner never told us and he never presented a transcript."

Bobby skimmed over the sheets as he said, "It's doesn't look official…more like, a, uh…here," he said pointing to the back page. "He made notes at the end, stating date, time, and place along with his thoughts on the interview. It was informal; he'd invited Caleb to have dinner with him at the Empire State Steak House on November 4th of last year. The interview lasted from seven eighteen to eight fifty-four. Caleb came forward about the abuse in October, right?"

Elliot gave a nod. "The 15th."

Looking over at Alex, he asked, "This was the only one found?"

"So far," she told him as the waiter appeared at the table. "I've still have a lot to look through. I can make you a copy."

Smiling, he said, "Appreciate it." After they all ordered, Bobby finally sat the transcript down as he told Alex, "We also found came across something interesting that might help you guys." He took a drink of the soda as he craved a beer to go along with his food, but pushed that craving aside as he continued, "I was looking up information on Patterson and his family. You know, just trying to gain as much information as possible, and, uh…turns out that Audrey Patterson went to Georgetown University along with Alec Gardner. Then in 1979, both she and Gardner moved back to Manhattan. In December of that year, she marries Guy Patterson; however, four months prior, Zach had been born."

Alex gave that some thought as Logan said, "You think that Zach might not be Patterson's biological son."

He gave a shrug as he told Logan, "It's something to think about. He does look exactly like his mother, not a trace of his father in him. Yet, his daughter, she has his dark hair and eyes."

"If Zach found out, it could give him reason to want to confront Gardner. It could also be motive," Alex said as she sat back when the waiter returned with their drinks.

"You orders will be out in a few minutes," the waiter told them before he left.

"Wait, Georgetown," Alex said as she turned to him. "I told you that Gardner made two purchases in Manhattan. Well, he also made a third one in Washington D.C., around the Georgetown area."

"What would that have to do with anything though," Logan said as he took drink of his soda. "Gardner could have been planning retirement."

"Logan's right," Bobby said. "Especially if he thought something was wrong with his health."

"But why would he buy a place here _and_ a house in Maryland," Alex said in confusion.

"A weekend house to be here with his wife, along with a place in D.C. for work," Elliot said with a light-hearted shrug. "Or he has a mistress."

They all looked at each other at that. Bobby rubbed at his head as he felt them start to shake along with a growing irritation that had no cause to be there as he let his mind wonder about all the possibilities. There was still so much to these two cases that weren't clear, but at least they were gaining some ground.

"Oh, and we think we found where Gardner was killed." When Bobby looked over at her and waited in anticipation, she continued, "Brownstone off 138th Street, in the basement, with a nail gun."

Chuckling, he asked, "Did you find the nail gun?"

"No, but I found framework and half laid cement. He was interrupted," Alex told him as the waiter returned with plates full of food for everyone.

"How about the unknown cell?"

Alex shook her head. "Your friend couldn't work his magic with that one. He said it's an unregistered drop phone and that it hasn't been used since Wednesday. There's a red flag on it just in case it's used again, but until that happens we got nothing on it."

"Alright," Elliot said, "enough of work talk. Let's eat."

"I agree," Logan said as he picked up his meatball sub and took a hefty bite out of it.

Bobby looked over at Logan as he asked, "You're not pissed off with me leaving?"

Logan gave him a glare but then said, "I'm not complaining. Eames's nicer to look at, plus, I no longer have to deal with your mommy/daddy issues."

Bobby smirked as he told him right back, "That makes two of us…Well, Elliot's not nicer to look at."

"Same here. I'm missing Liv already," Elliot shot back at him as he took a bite of a slice of pizza.

* * *

><p><em><span>Major Case Squad<span>_

It was going on nine o'clock at night and Bobby had received a call from Alex an hour ago. She had told him that she didn't think she could have dinner with him because of the case. Her and Logan were having the pressure beat down into them from the Governor on down to the brass to get the ADA's murder solved. Deakins had been on a tirade after he returned from another meeting and press conference for the evening news.

Bobby got off the elevator and rounded the corner, heading toward the Major Case Squad room. He spotted Alex leaning over her desk, chewing on her pen with her head in her hand, staring down at a thick file. The desk across from hers was just as cluttered with files but Logan wasn't in the chair.

As he approached the desks, he looked around but didn't see Logan anywhere. Pulling out the chair that used to be his, he sat down and waited for Alex to look up.

Sighing, she said, "I think my eyes are going to dry up in my sockets," and then she finally looked up. At seeing him, Alex frowned and looked around. "You're not Logan."

"No, but I brought dinner," Bobby said as he held up two bags; one a plastic bag containing dinner for three and the other was a small brown paper bag.

He sat the dinner down on the files and then unwrapped the paper bag. He pulled out a single chocolate cupcake and then his lighter. He lit the candle on top of it and then placed it in front of her.

Alex looked at it and smiled, shaking her head. On the cupcake were the words 'I Love You' written in red icing over a white whipped topping. "I love you too."

"This was supposed to be our romantic Valentine's dinner, but…" he shrugged. "I understand." Bobby watched as Alex picked up the cupcake and blew out the candle.

"Was I supposed to've made a wish?" she asked.

"I don't know. I asked the lady at the store about it and all she could tell me was that it was the last one left, and she had no idea why it came with a candle."

She pulled out the candle and gave it a lick as she peered over at him in a seductive manner.

Bobby shifted in the chair and gave her a smile. "I think I know why now."

She chuckled as she tossed it into the trash and then licked at the whipped cream icing, giving a hum of pleasure.

At feeling the heat creep up his neck, he shifted again as he tried not to stare. It wasn't working. "Where's Logan?" Bobby suddenly asked as he glanced around the squad room.

"Gardner's cell phone is finally out of recovery; I sent him to check it out," she told him as she took a bite out of the cupcake. "This is really good."

Smiling, he picked up the bag of food and after taking out the container for Logan, gestured toward the conference room. "Care to join me?"

"You're not nauseous again are you?"

Shaking his head, Bobby told her, "Thankfully no. Everything else is still there, and I've had to do a lot of twisting my hands and nearly sitting on them at one point to keep them from shaking, but…I haven't felt sick since yesterday."

"That's good, at least it's getting better and not worse. I've noticed you haven't been angry today."

"Not angry, but highly irritated and ready to throw a few people through the wall," Bobby teased with a smirk as he took the containers out of the bag, placing them on the table. "Red or white wine?" he playfully asked, gesturing out the door.

"I'll have what you're having," she told him as she peeled open the foiled lid covering her food.

Bobby went into the break room and got them both a coke and then rejoined her for their dinner. Handing her the can of soda, he sat down next to her and started digging into his food. "That transcript was a great find. From what I got from it, and everything else I had on Caleb, and with a little help from Dr. Huang, I was able to convince Captain Cragen to let us put a surveillance team on him. Stabler and Fin are working it right now. If Caleb leaves the apartment tonight, they'll let me know."

"And what're you going to do?"

"Follow him, and when, and if, the opportunity presents itself, I'm to talk to him. Get in close with him. The kid already thinks I'm his friend. It's not going to be hard to get him to open up."

"What if he accuses you of sexual abuse?"

"Then I have my proof that he could've also falsely accused Patterson," Bobby told her as he took a bite of the eggplant parmesan. He spotted movement in the squad room and when he looked, he saw Logan staring at the desks.

Logan picked up the foiled food container and then looked around. At seeing them together in the conference room, he gave him a smile and sat down at the desk to eat.

"You two doing okay?" he asked Alex as he picked up his soda to take a drink.

"We're doing great. He's a good partner," she told him with a pleased look. "Whatever happens, I think this could be okay."

Bobby stared into her eyes and at the genuine look of sincerity, he softly smiled. "So do I," he agreed as he leaned in closer and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

TBC…


	9. Wednesday, February 16th, 2005 pt1

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews!

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Intersection of Christopher &amp; 4<span>__th__ Street, 7__h__ Avenue & Stonewall Place_

_West Village, Manhattan_

"I hate Sheridan Square, man," Fin was saying from the front seat. "You know how many times I've nearly been hit walking through here? There're four streets all intersecting one another from every which way. Only in Manhattan do you have to look four ways before crossing a street."

Bobby chuckled as he kept his eyes on the reason he was called at one in the morning to met up with Elliot and Fin. Caleb had left his mother's apartment in Chelsea half an hour ago. Why the kid was in the West Village at one in the morning he had no idea, but he was going to find out.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Goren," Elliot said as he looked through the rearview mirror at him. "What happened to your hand?"

"Yeah. Why you running around looking like the one-armed man anyway?"

"It's nothing," he said as he looked back out the window. "Had an accident."

"At work?" Elliot asked.

"Home…There he is."

"This kid's trying to find a hookup," Fin said as Caleb walked out of a corner store with a pack of smokes. "The cigarettes are his ticket in. Amazing how offering someone a smoke opens up so many doors."

"What reason would you have to come to the village?" Elliot off-handedly asked as he stared out the windshield of the SUV, watching their suspect.

"Jazz," both he and Fin answered at the same time.

Fin glanced over the seat and looked back at him. "You like jazz?"

Bobby smirked at Fin as he told him, "I try to get to the Village Vanguard at least a couple times a year to get my fill."

"The Vanguard," Fin said in excitement. "That used to be my hangout back in the early '90's. I even got to meet Wynton Marsalis there once."

"That's when he was recording that live album, right? I was in Korea then. On my last tour before getting out."

"You missed a hell of a performance. The CD's don't do that man justice."

Bobby glanced out the window, walking as Caleb crossed the street as he told him, "I saw Art Pepper there in '77."

"You saw the Pepper? Now that's impressive. That's like seeing Miles Davis live."

"Yeah, too bad he got himself addicted to heroin though. He could've been better, I think."

"They all could've been better if they laid off the dope," Fin agreed as Elliot started up the engine to follow the kid. "But then if he hadn't been in San Quentin Prison for his heroin addiction, he would've never played with Frank Morgan."

Bobby started laughing at the seriousness of that statement, and he actually couldn't help but agree. "All they were missing was Charlie Parker."

That got Fin to laugh as he said, "That's not right. The Bird was only 34 when he kicked the bucket." Shaking his head, he said, "Heroin, man, that's no joke. I lost so many friends to that shit before I was even in high school."

"The needle and the damage done," Bobby agreed, referencing the Neil Young song about the drug addition. "My father lost his brother to it too. After he returned from Vietnam, he got addicted to it."

"He overdosed?" Elliot asked as he came to a stop on a corner.

Caleb had disappeared into a building that they all knew was a nightclub. That meant that the 17 year old had a fake ID.

"No, he committed suicide," Bobby said as he leaned up from where he was resting his head on the back of the seat. "If he's not out in five minutes, I'm going in."

"Cool,' Fin told him as they all watched the door.

"This Conduct Disorder," Elliot suddenly asked as he took a sip of the coffee they'd gotten not too long ago from a corner Starbucks. "What's that again?"

Bobby reached for his own cup as he leaned forward, explaining, "It's a disorder that causes behavior and emotions problems in adolescents, mostly boys. They have extreme difficulty following rules, and, uh, behaving in socially acceptable ways."

"Extreme like how?" Fin asked. "Joinin' gangs?"

"Gangs, yeah. Becoming bullies…"

"I thought this kid was the one being bullied," Elliot said as he shifted sideways so he could look back at him.

Bobby shook his head as he told him, "It seemed that way, but the more I thought about what everyone had said, Caleb put himself into a position to be in a fight. He would intentionally annoy, or attack others to get them to come after him. That's also a symptom of the disorder. He threatens or, uh…intimidates others, often initiating fights. But, since he's also developing more into a predator, he's learned to use that as his act. He likes to play the victim in order to get people to feel sorry for him. It's how he's learned to manipulate them into doing what he wants them to do."

"Like having the coach drive him?"

"Yes, and to get me to walk him home. He was playing me as much as I was playing him."

"What else?" Fin asked as he glanced over the seat at him.

"History of assault, besides the fighting at school. Uh, cruelty to people, animals…Frequent stealing, shoplifting, uh, arson…destroying people's property. Everything he'd been arrested for in Alabama matched the disorder. And this, staying out at night, running away…truancy from school, bad attendance, failing grades. He's hitting all the markers. There's a lot of lack of empathy associated with this disorder, that's why if left untreated, or if it gets worse, it can develop into antisocial personality disorder…into sociopathic behavior. Caleb is already at that point, or very close to it."

"I thought sociopaths didn't have friends? That they can't relate."

"Not typically, no," Bobby said as he looked at the two cops in the front seats. "But they do know how to generate people around them, people that they can use and manipulate. Somehow, Caleb got four other kids to lie about being sexually abused. The only way I can see Caleb doing that, is through his victim act. He convince the four boys that he was abused, and in order to help bring the coach down, he manipulated them into lying in order to help him. Th-the, uh, the more the people who claimed abuse, the more likely Caleb's lie of abuse would be believed."

"Still, it doesn't fit the typical sociopath," Elliot said. "I know that I don't know as much about this as you do, but I'm just not seeing the whole picture here."

Bobby stared at Elliot as he told him, "That's because you're right. Caleb isn't a common sociopath. There are four different subtypes of sociopathy."

"Four?" Fin asked as he stared over at him. "And what subtype does this kid have?"

Bobby sighed as he thought. "Well, the four types are, uh, common, alienated, aggressive, and dyssocial."

"What're all of those?"

"You know what? Why don't you two open up a book, or search it online and find out for yourselves. It's been five minutes," Bobby snapped in annoyance.

"I can see you as having Conduct Disorder," Fin teased.

Bobby took a breath to calm himself down before addressing Fin. "I wasn't too far from it when I was a teenager, actually. I, uh…I would've been told I had a lesser form of Conduct Disorder called Oppositional Defiant Disorder. It's basically the same thing except less…uh, there's empathy involved I guess would be the big difference. There's no cruelty to people or animals, no physical harm to other people…It's mostly being extremely defiant of authority, to parents and teachers, adults in general. Uh, when I was a kid, I had frequent temper tantrums, excessive anger, feelings of resentment, and constantly arguing with adults. I very often questioned the rules. I was always in trouble at home and at school, which lead me to get into fights, skipping school…running away from home. I had only a few friends. I was very sensitive and easily annoyed…spiteful. Not to mention I was a very depressed kid. That also caused a lot of problems."

"Still sounds like you," Fin teased him again. "You've always been that way. Kind-of surprised you're a cop, but I guess if you are the authority figure than you can be as defiant as you wanna be."

Bobby chuckled at that as he agreed, "I think you're right. Anyway, I see Caleb as becoming the aggressive type. Gaining gratification through harming others. They like to hurt people, frighten them, bully and manipulate, all for a sense of power and control. They seek out positions of power, either as a parent, teacher, politican…hell, some even become police officers. They hone in their skills and overtime they become passive aggressive. In their spare time…they'll, uh, they'll do things like hunt for the thrill of it. Or, they'll do things like pick up stray dogs or cats and kill them, cut them up for the same purpose. Then there are those who hunt humans for the same purpose. They put on an act to get their way…like what Caleb is doing with this victim act of his as the new kid, being bullied, in order to gain trusts and sympathy. In actuality, what he's doing is feeling you out. Seeing what he can and can't get away with, and learning as much about his prey as he can. And, when these types of sociopaths are crossed, they get very vindictive. Such as claiming sexual misconduct on a coach when threatened to lose a spot on the team."

"And you're positive he's on his way to hunting men?"

"He already is," Bobby told them as his mind drifted further into what he knew of Caleb. "That's what this all is about. Even why he's in that nightclub right now. See, the thing about Caleb is that he is hunting _men_. Now, that's not a, uh, a common behavior for a male sociopath. If they become serial killers, they usually target women. Caleb's targeting men, and it got me thinking as to why. It all has to do with uncertainty as to who he is as a man, with what that means…So, he goes in search of it. He latches onto older men, father-figures, and obsesses over them. Caleb wants their identity, and it'll get to the point that in order to be them, he will start to stalk and then eventually kill the men he wants to be. It's a progression."

"It's like a twist on the whole sexual identity issue, but instead it's a personal identity issue?" Elliot asked in confusion as he tried to follow his train of thought.

"Right," Bobby agreed. "He's "attracted" to them, but not in any sexual way, but to their masculinity and confidence, to their power. He envies any man who has a strong sense of identity, even gay men, because at least they know who they are. They have a place, a identity, that he doesn't have. That feeling of want, of belonging…it's consuming. If he were a normal, mentally healthy kid, this wouldn't be a serious issues. Everyone struggles with identity when they're a kid, especially when they hit adolescence, but he's not normal so he's unable to behave in any normal way. He's trying. He joined the basketball team for a sense of place, of identity…but, the moment that identity was threatened, he reacted in an act of vengeance toward the coach."

Rubbing at his head, Bobby took a moment to get the bombarding thoughts and emotions in order as he felt himself connecting more and more. He could feel his own longing for a father-figure, his own struggles as a teenager with trying to get out from under the image of his own father. All the reasons why he left. Why he had, in a sense, ran away for the last time he had joined the military in an attempt at discovery what kind of man he really was.

"This isn't going to turn into a mommy issue, is it?" Elliot asked him after a moment. "You know, the old excuse of having no father but an overbearing mother."

Bobby looked over at Elliot, still rubbing his head, "Do you know why a lot of the time that is a genuine excuse? Because it's the truth. Even when mothers, or women care-givers…grandmothers, try their best, have good will and intentions, they can't raise a boy into a man. It's said that a woman can change a baby into a boy…but, only men can change a boy into a man. There's truth in that. I was raised by my mother, my father was a degenerate…who left when I was eleven…Yeah, she was mentally ill and tried her best, but…she couldn't teach me how to be a man. You know, statistically, four boys out of every one girl are diagnosed with some sort of emotional disturbance of behavior issue. Do you know why? Because after a divorce, the kids automatically go to the mother. Boys in particular are the ones who suffer because of it. Girls, yeah, they may miss their dad, but they have a _constant_ female role model in their lives to learn from and to develop a clear sense of who they are and what it means to be a woman. Whereas the boys are fatherless…lost, with no clear sense of identity. They have to seek out other males to learn from, and depending on who they find, or who they _don't_ find…" he left the rest unsaid as he thought more about Caleb's mother, and about his own self. "Without a strong sense of themselves, they grow up to be insecure. They develop a distrust of authority figures. They fear commitment, and a family, as they constantly seek out that father-figure they never had. It's the mark of a boy with an indifferent, uncaring, or unavailable father."

The similarities between himself and Caleb where once again making him highly nervous, as well as more empathetic. It was troubling because the last time he felt like that was to another sociopath…John Tagman.

"You know," Bobby continued as the SUV came back into focus. "Boys who grow up in a predominantly feminine environment, they risk low self-esteem, and excessive, sometimes even unhealthy dependence on women…We're going to find that Caleb has a girlfriend."

"Unhealthy dependence. Isn't that like the opposite of you controlling them, but instead, them controlling you?" Fin asked.

"Well, it depends….It's like with my brother. In order for him to be productive, he has to have a girlfriend. When he's with a woman, he feels better about himself. She gives him confidence, raises his self-esteem…he actually gets a job and tries to keep it, or seeks help. That's the kind-of dependence I'm talking about. However, he still uses her, manipulates her into letting him move in and staying even though he's not helping her out, and getting her to support his habit. Then he'll lie, telling her that he'll stop using to stay with her, but never sticking to it."

"That's messed up."

"It's called unhealthy dependence for a reason, Fin," Elliot said with a teasing smirk.

"How about your relationships with women?" Fin asked him, "Are they unhealthy?"

Bobby stared out the window shield as he said instead of answering, "About Caleb's mother, we're probably going to find her to be overprotective, overbearing, but not overly affectionate. She's also very religious. She works at night, leaving him alone most of the time, but trusts him to not get into trouble even though he has a history of arrests. That tells us that she ultimately believes he's a good boy, a good son. She's living in denial about his behavior, not wanting to see her son as having problems."

"So, this type of sociopath isn't created by abuse?" Elliot asked.

Shrugging, he answered, "Who knows what this is created by. Abuse, drug addiction or alcoholism in the parents…um, family conflicts, genetic defects, poverty…any or all the above? I don't think there's really an answer to that. I mean, I've come from a bad home with an absent father, mentally ill mother, and I did a lot of stupid shit when I was a kid, but I'm not a sociopath. Sure, I have problems, but…I don't think I'm crazy."

"Same here," Elliot said with a sympathetic smile.

Fin gave a agreeable nod as well before saying, "Enough with this tender moment bullshit, let's get to work."

Bobby laughed as he looked at his watch. "All right, I think I'll join our underage suspect for a drink."

"You got the tracker?"

Bobby dug into his pocket and pulled out the cigarette lighter that wasn't just a lighter. In it was a GPS tracker. There was also a false cigarette in the pack in his pocket that held a camera in the butt of it. Before he got out of the SUV, he took off his overcoat and then his suit jacket.

"What're you doing?" Elliot asked.

"Getting into character. Who goes into a nightclub at one in the morning wearing a suit. I'll scream cop," Bobby told him as he pulled off his tie and tossed it onto his jackets. Un-tucking his dress shirt, he also took it off before he finally opened the door to get out. "Fin, let me borrow your jacket."

Fin gave him a look but then he groaned as he pulled it off. "Next time, bring your own wardrobe. Got the camera?"

Bobby held up his pack of smokes as he told him, "It's in here." He then pulled Fin's black leather jacket over his black t-shirt and asked, "How'd I look?" as he hid his microphone in the sleeve of the jacket. There was also a earpiece in his left ear so Fin and Elliot could talk to him.

Fin actually took a moment to give him the once over before saying, "Like the village pimp."

"Does the village have pimps?"

"If they did, you're it," Fin called out to him as he went to walk across the street.

Bobby jogged across the street, trying not to get hit by taxi drivers who didn't give a damn. Opening the door to the nightclub that had the windows blacked out from the inside so no one on the street could see in, but you could see out, he entered into a narrow hallway with red lights illuminating the darkness.

Following the hall all the way down toward the loud bass music playing, he took the corner at the end of it and was greeted by a man guarding the door. Bobby gave the man a nod as he went to step by him as he reached for the door.

The man's hand on his chest stopped him. "ID."

"Do I look underage to you?" Bobby asked even though his hand was going for his back pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he showed the man his ID. "Anything else?" he impatiently asked, as if the bouncer had been an inconvenience.

The bouncer didn't look too happy, but he reached for the door and pushed it open.

Bobby gave the man one last look before walking in and then he nearly froze. Trying to not look as uncomfortable as he suddenly felt, he started to walk through the club full of men in search of Caleb Cunningham.

There was an ear piece in his ear and he heard Fin say to him, "It's bumping up in that joint. What's it looking like in there?"

Bobby breathed out as he moved closer to the wall so he could get a better view of his location. Being his arm up to scratch at he back of his head, placing the microphone he had near his mouth as he told him, "Uh…very _man_ly."

The earpiece went quit right before he heard laughter on the other end. "Pull out the camera, I've got to get a picture of how uncomfortable you look right now."

Bobby went to snap at Fin when he spotted the kid across the room, seated at the bar. "Target acquired."

"Anyone checking you out yet?"

Bobby rolled his eyes as he started for the bar. And, yes, he had spotted a few men checking him out, but he wasn't going to tell Fin that. Despite being uncomfortable, he wasn't disgusted by the men around him. His uncle was gay, a few guys he hadn't known in the Army were gay, and he knew some gay guys in the NYPD that he's hung out with while in Narcotics. A person loved who they loved, and he couldn't rightfully judge anyone for that. It didn't bother him like that. What did bother him was to be hit on, but that was by both men or women. A woman made him uncomfortable enough, but a man was just weird; it made him feel weird. He tried not to feel that way because he held no prejudices, but he couldn't help it.

Finally easing his way up to the bar, he didn't want Caleb to see him right away. Instead of taking up the stool right next to him, he took one down the bar and at the corner. He had a good view of the kid along with everyone else seated at the bar.

He knew well enough from his profile that Caleb wasn't gay, but for him to seek out this type of club wasn't atypical of a teenage boy who 'preyed' on older men. It made sense because where else could a young guy go to befriend an older man without it seeming strange?

At the moment, Caleb was talking to an older man, about his own age. A beer bottle was in the teenagers hand along with a cigarette. This club had to be one of the last remaining in the city where the customers could actually smoke. Taking out a cigarette of his own, he lit it up with the lighter as the bartender approached him.

He had felt the craving hit him hard in the chest the moment he spoke the words 'have a drink' in the SUV. Bobby closed his eyes as he took in a deep drag off the smoke as the bartender asked him what he wanted.

Rubbing at his head, he struggled with the urge that sweated his neck and shook his hand. "A, uh…I'll have…" Bobby swallowed hard as he let out a breath of smoke.

"I can give you a minute," the man said as he gave him a concerned look.

Giving a nod, he watched as the bartender move away as he fought through the pounding of his heart in his chest. His mouth went dry and it was getting hard to even breathe.

"You okay, Bobby?" Fin asked in his ear. "Your breathing is sounding labored."

Shaking his head, he ran his hand through his hair as he softly said, "I'm fine." Bobby dropped his hand and stuck the smoke back in his mouth as he took off the leather jacket. While he pulled his right arm through the sleeve, he unclipped the microphone. He put the jacket on the back of the chair and then put the microphone into the bandage on his right hand. "Check?"

"Loud and clear," Elliot told him. "Fin's waiting on that camera feed."

The bartender returned and he felt himself give in as he ordered a beer. Just one, he told himself as he took a moment to take in his surroundings. To his right was the hallway that lead to the restrooms, but it was so dark in the hall all he could see was the neon sign that lit up halfway down indicting where the men's room was. Surprisingly there was also a woman's restroom.

Returning his attention back to the bar, a bottle was placed in front of him. Before the bartender could turn away, he asked, "You work here a lot?"

The bartender shrugged as he told him with a slight British accent, "Most nights."

Giving a nod, he pointed down the bar to Caleb as he asked, "That young guy…he a regular?"

"You a cop?"

Bobby smiled slightly as he shook his head. "No, I'm not a cop. I'm just a curious guy, I guess."

The bartender gave him a look before glancing down the bar to Caleb. "He comes in about three, four times a month. First time was October."

"Uh, how'd you know it was October?"

"Halloween, everyone in masks, costumes, _drag_, except for him and his mate."

Bobby took that in as he asked, "The friend a regular too?"

The bartender turned back to him as he gave him a smile, "Now you do sound like a cop. He do something?"

Shifting in his seat, he debated if he should break cover or not. Bobby shook his head as he told him, "No, um…thanks."

"You're either a cop, or a stalker," the bartender told him with a teasing wink before he went back to work. A few minutes later, he returned and motioned for him to lean in closer to him. Bobby leaned on the bar as the bartender got in close to tell him, "His mate wasn't a regular, but he'd been in here during the summer. A little older. I remember him because he had a temper and I had to get him out a few times. I haven't seen him since Halloween when he brought the young one in. His name was Isaac."

Bobby looked over at Caleb as the older man that he'd been talking to left. "What if I'm a stalker?"

Shrugging, the bartender told him, "I've been talking to you for five minutes and if anything happens to him, I'll make a pretty good witness, don't you think? And, there're cameras."

Bobby looked around and spotted the cameras that were hidden in the shadows.

"You're going to get a warrant for the footage?"

Smirking, he took his first sip of the beer as he said, "I might, but something tells me that you'll be very cooperative."

"My brother's a cop. He'll kick my ass if I gave you a hard time."

Bobby took that into consideration as he said, "Then I trust you not to give me away."

The bartender dug into his pocket and pulled out a card, "Of course, and, if you need anything else…" he handed him the card. "Don't hesitate to ask."

Bobby took the card and flipped it over. At seeing the number written on the back, he said, "You do know I'm not gay, right?"

The bartender looked him over and then said, "Really? Bi then?"

Bobby huffed out a laugh as he said, "No."

"Could've fooled me," the bartender, Eli, according to the name on the card, told him. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "You've been spotted."

Bobby took his eyes off the card as he looked down the bar and saw Caleb watching him.

"He looks scared," Eli said as he straightened. "Want me to offer him a drink, from you to him?"

"Uh…" Bobby hesitated as he knew that Caleb was a minor, but he had his cover to maintain. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

As Eli walked away, he could hear Fin in his ear, "Contributing alcohol to a minor _and_ getting hit on the British bartender."

Bobby watched as Eli placed a beer in front of Caleb and motioned toward him as he told Fin, "Find this Isaac guy. Start with Caleb's friends from the high school…" he had to stop talking as Caleb got up from where he was sitting and started his way.

"We're on it," Elliot told him the moment Caleb sat down next to him.

In all his life, this was definitely the number one most uncomfortable moment. However, it seemed that Caleb was more scared and uncomfortable than he was. Bobby watched as the kid downed half the bottle before looking over at him.

"You nervous?" he asked quietly, trying to keep this conversation between the two of them.

Caleb gave a curt nod, then said, "You know."

Bobby took out the pack of cigarettes and lighter, placing them on the bar top. "I, uh, know what?"

Swallowing hard, Caleb offered, like it was a confession, "That I'm not old enough to be in here."

"Oh…" Bobby said as if he had forgotten the kid's age. "Well," he said as he offered the kid a smoke, "I won't tell if you don't. What're you doing here anyway?"

Giving a shrug, Caleb took the offered smoke and then the lighter as he lit it up. "I was bored. Thought I would check the place out."

"It's your first time in here?"

Caleb gave a nod, lying to him. "Yeah."

Bobby wondered how many other lies Caleb had told him that he hadn't figured out were lies yet. He figured most, if not all, of the things told him were lies, or at least extensions of the truth. It was another marker the kid was hitting on his profile. He wondered how Caleb would react if confronted about the lie. "That's funny. I talked to the bartender, he told me you've been coming in here about four times a month."

Caleb barely reacted at all. He kept his eyes forward, on the bar, as he took a drag off the cigarette. Then, finally, he breathed out and sighed, as if annoyed. "I didn't want you to think that I did this all the time."

"Why would I care? I'm just surprised that you're alone. The West Village may not be Harlem, but it's still dangerous, especially at night. You have to be careful who you hang with…Who you accept drinks from."

Caleb looked at the beer bottle in his hand and then at him. "You think someone might drug me?"

Taking another sip of his own beer, and savoring the taste, he told him, "Someone might. So, is there anyone…Watching your back, I mean?"

Shaking his head, Caleb told him, "Guess I wasn't thinkin'."

"You're young, it happens," he slightly teased, causing Caleb to smile a little. Seeing that they were both running low on their drinks, asked, "Want another?"

"Nah, I think I'm going to leave after I'm done with this one," Caleb told him.

"That's right, you have school in the morning," Bobby said as he took out the fake cigarette with the built in camera. Putting it in the ashtray directly in front of Caleb, he slid off the chair and asked, "Do me a favor, watch my stuff while I hit up the men's room?"

"You got it," Caleb said as he headed down the dark hallway.

Bobby pushed open the door and noticed only one other guy in there. He really did have to use the bathroom, so he went over to the urinal as he heard Fin talking in his ear.

"The camera is working great. It's a little grainy but we got a clear view of Caleb. He's riffling through my jacket."

Glancing over at the guy at the sink, he watched as he finished drying his hands. Once the guy left, he said into his hand, "The pocket's are clear…but he must be looking for my wallet."

"He wants to steal your money?"

"No," Bobby told him before he had to use both hands to finish up. After flushing, he headed to the sinks to wash as he continued telling Elliot, "He wants to find anything he can about me. My name, address…He was looking for my license."

"Now he's nervously glancing back toward the hallway," Fin told him. "When you get back, don't take a drink of your beer."

Bobby grabbed a towel as he chuckled, "Uh, let me guess. He drugged me?"

"I doubt it's to date rape you, but if he's desperate for information like you said…"

"He wants to knock me out so he can grab my wallet," Bobby finished as he pulled open the door and left the restroom. Heading down the hall, he kept his eyes on the young kid as he approached. Picking up his jacket, and then pocketing the pack of cigarettes and lighter, he asked, "Ready?"

Caleb picked up his bottle to finish it off and then as he slid off the chair, asked, "You gonna finish yours?"

Shaking his head, Bobby pulled out his money clip and tossed a hundred down, Eli deserved something for his assistance, before he picked up the camera cigarette and put it behind his ear.

"Perfect view," Fin told him. "That place is jumping. Gay club or not, it's off the hook."

"Then, do you mind?" Caleb asked as he reached out to take a hold of the beer bottle.

Bobby reacted by reaching for it at the same time with his injured hand, knocking it hard enough to send it spilling over the bar top. "Oh, shit, sorry…" he quickly apologized as Eli walked over with a towel to clean it up. "I'm still not used to my hand," he explained a little sheepishly.

Caleb stared at the spilt liquid being wiped up and then the bottle tossed away into the trash bin. "It's alright," he calmly said with a slight shrug before turning to leave.

Bobby took a deep breath and followed. He wasn't sure what Caleb was up to with deciding to drink the drugged beer himself, but he wasn't going to find out.

"That was close," Fin was saying. "What'd you think he was try to do with drinking it himself?"

Bobby didn't know so he didn't try to give Fin an answer as he followed Caleb through the door, down the long hallway, and out into the night air. He spotted the SUV across the street and Fin in the passenger seat watching them. "Did you take the subway?"

"Yea," Caleb told him as he looked around the sidewalk and then pulled out a cigarette. Checking over his pockets, he looked confused and then a little panicky. "I think I lost my lighter."

Bobby highly doubted that but he had no problem pulling out the lighter with the GPS tracking device in it and handing it to the kid, telling him, "Here." Caleb took it as they started walking toward the subway. After lighting it, he went to hand it back to him when Bobby told him, "Keep it. I've got another one."

Smiling, Caleb thanked him as they headed down into the tunnel on the corner. It wasn't until they were both seated on the train when he spoke again.

Bobby was leaning back on the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the train, when he heard Caleb asked, "You smoke?"

Bobby blinked back in confusion as he looked over that the kid. Then he saw in his hand a joint.

"The kid found his hookup…Probably that guy he was talking to at the bar when you came in," Fin spoke to him.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," Bobby said as he took it while glancing around the nearly empty subway train. Putting it in Fin's jacket pocket, he asked, "Where'd you get it?"

"I know people," Caleb said as he slid further down into the seat, stretching his six foot frame out.

"Know people? You're in New York, for what? Barely a year, your momma won't let you even go to Brooklyn, and you know people?"

Caleb turned to him as he chuckled a little, "My momma just thinks she knows what I do. Let's just say I got a hookup."

Bobby looked at the kid and then around the train again, like he was making sure no one was listening in. "Uh…hookup? With that guy I saw you talking to at the club?"

Chuckling a little, the teen shook his head, "He ain't nobody. I told you I got friends at school."

"You pay 'em with what? Homework?"

"No, but…" Looking him over, he smirked a little, saying, "What I got going for them, it's nothin' you'll be interested in."

"Oh, yeah, and why's that?" Bobby off-handedly asked, as if he didn't care as he leaned back on the seat and closed his eyes.

"It just won't," he told him and left it at that.

Bobby gave a shrug as he told him, "Fine by me. I have my own connections anyway."

He heard Caleb laugh a little before saying, "Whatever you say, Bobby, but if you need anymore, you can always come by my place."

The train slowed to a stop and they both stood to get off. Bobby walked Caleb the rest of the way back to the his apartment but didn't go up as he turned and headed back to the way he came. He got two blocks away when the SUV pulled along side the street and he got in.

"Any luck on this Isaac guy," Bobby asked the moment he shut the SUV door.

"Nothing yet, but until we get a last name it's nearly impossible," Elliot told him as he started to drive.

"We started with Cunningham and got all kinds of hits, but nothing solid," Fin further informed him. "So, this kid's a buyer and a seller?"

"Looks that way," Bobby said as he took off the leather jacket and handed it to Fin. Picking up his dress shirt, he slid it on but kept everything else off. Taking the microphone out of the bandage, he handed it to Fin. "And he's got something else going on with those high school friends of his."

"The secret life of teenagers, man," Fin said as he brought up a screen that was tracking the lighter. "He's not going to leave again tonight, but you never know."

Bobby gave a nod as he leaned back in the seat and breathed out. That one beer had tasted like the best thing in the world and he was craving more. It was getting hard to think of anything else other than having a drink. "Make sure you get that joint to trace…maybe there's something on it, or in it."

"Will do," Fin said as he pulled it out of his jacket pocket and put it into an evidence envelope. "You did great. Never doubted you for a second. You were always excellent at undercover work."

Bobby pulled the camera cigarette out from behind his ear and handed it to Fin as well, before he forgot he had it. "Like riding a bike. You never forget how to do it."

"I still can't see you as a narc," Elliot said as he slowed for a red light.

"You kidding?" Fin said, "Bobby has the mind to become anyone he wants to be. I've seen it. He can talk the talk and walk the walk better than any other cop I know."

Bobby listened to the banter as he worked his jaw back-and-forth, fighting the grow urge that was starting to devour all his control. His hand was twitching, his jaw was tightening from the strained muscle, and his mind wouldn't stop thinking about it. His body wouldn't stop longing for it. Rubbing at the sweat that was coating the back of his neck, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the back of the passenger seat as his gut started to quake in pain.

"Hey, Goren…Bobby, are you okay?" Elliot asked as he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

Not thinking, only reacting, he jerked back as he grabbed Elliot's hand and twisted it back.

"Aww, fuck!" Elliot screamed out in pain. "Mother-" he cut himself off as he hit the brakes, sending them all slamming forward.

Bobby, realizing what he'd done, dropped his hand as he took in deep breaths to steady his rapid breathing. "I'm sorry…Are you okay?"

"You nearly broke my hand, asshole!" Elliot yelled back at him as he cradled his right hand, rubbing at the twisted bones and aching muscles.

"Hey, El, calm down," Fin said, trying to calm the angry detective down. "Let's switch seats, okay? I'll drive."

"No, I got it," Elliot said as he grabbed the wheel with his left hand and eased off the brake. "What's your problem?"

Bobby caught Elliot glaring at him through the rearview mirror before he buried his pounding head in his hand.

"Stop yelling and drive," Fin calmly interjected, trying to ease the tension that had engulfed the SUV. "Leave him alone."

"Fuck you, Fin," Elliot snapped.

"I'm not going to take offense to that. You're just pissed off because your hand hurts."

"Damn right it hurts!"

"Is it broken?" Fin asked.

It was silent before Elliot answered, "I can move it."

"Then stop bitchin'!" Fin finally yelled back.

No one spoke again for the rest of the drive back to the precinct. Bobby pulled on his suit jacket and stuffed his tie into the pocket as he grabbed his overcoat to get out once they were parked. Elliot wouldn't even look at him as they headed to the SVU squad room. Fin kept giving him looks, ones of sympathy and concern as they headed to their desks. He didn't stick around the quiet squad room for long as he picked up his binder and went to leave.

"We got paperwork," Fin told him as he started to leave.

"I'll do it tomorrow," Bobby called back as he left without another word.

* * *

><p><em><span>Ray's Pub<span>_

_Lower East Side, Manhattan_

Ignoring the people passing by, giving him looks, he kept pacing around the sidewalk as he smoked on a cigarette and listened to his mother through the cell phone. Why she decided to call him at two in the morning he didn't know, but she was on a tirade. He'd heard it all before. Nothing he did would ever matter to her unless it was giving her a grandchild or something, or getting married. If it wasn't any of those two things, she could care less about him or what he did.

At the moment, he felt the same. He didn't care what he did anymore, or what happened to him. All he knew was that he wanted it all to stop.

Interrupting his mother, something he rarely did, he said, "I can't do this right now, mom. Okay, I'll call you later." Then he did something he had never done, and that was hang up on her.

He stared at the closed cell phone in his left hand and felt absolutely nothing for having done that, not even guilt. Putting the phone in his jacket pocket, he stuffed out the cigarette butt before pulling out a new one. He lit it as he continued pacing up and down the sidewalk. Turning the lighter over and over in his hand, he glanced periodically at the closed door as his control slipped more out of reach.

Night life in New York City never stopped as people passed him on the sideway while some went by him into the bar. Reaching up to his mouth, he drew a breath on the cigarette before pulling it out to blow the smoke. The smoke was doing very little to settle his craving and the pain that was pounding his head and burning a hole in his gut.

He had so many reasons to break down and have another drink and only one that kept entering his mind not to; that one reason was Alex. She would be furious with him, especially since she spent a whole night with him on the bathroom floor while he went through withdrawal. He was still going through withdrawal, from the shakiness of his hands to the feverish chills and sweating he was currently experiencing to the throbbing pain in his head. His whole body, even his mind was aching with the craving of needing a drink.

In the end, that was what finally dominated his thinking. He stopped caring about Alex and what she would think, or say, or do. All he knew was that he was in pain and hurting and he wanted a drink. Going up to the door, he pulled it open and stepped inside.

Nearly half an hour later, his head finally stopped hurting along with everything else as he stared down at the glass in front of him. It was almost empty of the amber liquid and before he could ask for another, a glass appeared in front of him. Picking up the one in his hand, he downed the rest of it then scooted the empty glass across the bar top as the bartender picked it up. Taking a drag off the cigarette, he tried not to think how pissed off Alex was going to be when she learned that he was on his second scotch.

She was right; he couldn't deal with it alone and the withdrawal was only making everything that much worse. It was like his pain had doubled since he went through withdrawal. He hadn't done it to quit drinking forever, just to get over the dependence, the excessiveness…Two drinks wasn't excessive. He would have this last one and then leave.

At the moment, the Lynyrd Skynyrd's song '_Simple Man_', was playing over the speakers. The lyrics to that song always struck a chord within him. Twisted a part of his soul that he kept buried along with a million other things that he wished his mother, or father, had said to him.

"All that I want for you my son, is to be satisfied…be something you love and understand…" he softly sung as he tried to figure out exactly what in the hell that meant, because after forty-three years in existence he still didn't know. The more he thought about it, the darker his thoughts got.

Then the darker his thoughts got, the more he replayed his evening with Caleb over in his mind. He took a sip of the scotch as the song ended. As he closed his eyes, feeling the dread that clouded his mind as the darkness tried to take over, he felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket.

Cursing under his breath, he took it out and saw who was calling. He wasn't surprised to see that it was Alex again. She had called either when he first arrived and he had ignored it. The last thing he needed was to hear her disappointment in him. He was already torturing himself enough; she would only manage to deliver the final blow.

Putting the phone away, he picked the glass up and nearly downed the whole thing. Then, he motioned for another.

"_I'm going to buy a ticket now, as far as I can, ain't never coming back. Going to take a south-bound, all the way to Georgia now, until the train runs out of track…Oh, can't you see, oh can't you see, what that woman, she been doing to me_…"

"Can't you see, oh, can't you see, what that woman, Lord, she been doing to me…" Bobby softly sung along. He felt his eyes grow heavy as he listened and the alcohol eased his troubled mind. Taking a drink of his third scotch, he felt the cell phone buzz again.

Pulling it out, he saw that it was her again. Alexandra Eames…his girlfriend, hopefully, and ex-partner who was Logan's partner because he ran off to Special Victim's. And now with his hand injured, it was even going to take longer to get back on full duty. He would now have to re-qualify on his weapon in order to come back as well as complete all his counseling sessions and get the go ahead by the department shrink.

He was so fucked.

Tossing the cell on the bar top, he ignored the buzzing as someone sat down next to him. When he looked he wasn't expecting who he saw. Head bowed and swirling a beer bottle in his hands was Detective Andrews. Not knowing what the cop wanted, he kept an eye on his as he picked up his own beer and took a sip.

"Never thought I'll see you back in a cop bar," Andrews quietly told him after a long silence. "I'm glad though, because I need to tell you something." He continued to stare at the bottle in his hands. "New Year's Ever was a mistake; it should've never happened. We were wrong in doing that, Goren. I felt like shit for weeks. Then word spread about you being undercover and working for IA, and it started all over again. The frustration and all the anger. Us cops, we can be our own worst enemies sometimes."

Bobby stared at Andrews as he gave a nod even though the man couldn't see him. He didn't know what the cop was getting at, other than maybe an apology. He didn't need to hear Andrews tell him that he was sorry. He didn't want the pity. "You don't have to do this."

"Goren, let me finish. I am sorry but not with what you think." Looking up at him, Andrews said, "I did it on purpose."

That confused him as he gave another nod, saying, "Yeah, okay. It's noth-"

"I wanted to provoke you," Andrews interrupted. "What I did in the hallway, the rat in your desk, and messing with your locker, I did it for a reason. Everyone was talking shit about you, saying how you were a rat for IA and that you were trying to hang some shit on good cops, and I couldn't take it. I knew it that night in the bar. I knew that you weren't that guy, but I went along with all those assholes anyway. This time I decided to do something about it."

Bobby didn't know what to say as he asked in confusion, "So…you screwed with me to do what, exactly?"

"To help you. I knew that if I provoked you enough, you would come after me. I just wasn't expecting you to pound me into my desk, but it was great," Andrews said with a soft smirk. "Then Eames stole my thunder by mentioning taking it to Captain Deakins. She got you to admit what I was trying to get you to admit to everyone, that you're not a rat. What you did for IA on Staten Island, that was admirable. You risked your life to take those dirty cops down, and you shouldn't have to defend yourself to anyone, yet alone someone wearing the same badge as you. I'm the first to admit that I could've gone about it differently but I figured if I was the one doing it then I was the one controlling what happened. The last thing I wanted was for you to get ganged up on in the parking garage or something. I mean, a dead rat in your desk is nothing compared to another fist fight."

He had to look away, back down at his bottle. It was a hard thing to wrap his head around; that Andrews had done all that to help him, to keep the other cops from messing with him or trying to fight him. That Andrews was protecting him, and he had slammed him into the desk and wanted to kick his ass for it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It had to be real and," he took a breath before admitting, "I still had some doubts. I think I also needed to hear you say it to be sure. I was so relieved, Goren, you have no idea. I was praying that you didn't take it to the captain. Then I would've had to bring it all up and he still could've suspended me."

Bobby swallowed hard as he brought the bottle up to his lips and took a big gulp.

"Most of us really miss you, Goren. We miss the Bobby Goren we all knew before the abduction, before all the Staten Island bullshit. He was a happier guy, a more sociable guy. He was the cop that used to drink me under the table and when I couldn't string two words together got me into a cab and paid the driver to get me home safely. He was a cop that could've been our friend if he had let us. What in the hell happened to that guy anyway?"

Rubbing a hand over his forehead, through his hair, he closed his eyes and shook his head. He had no idea where that guy had gone. Somewhere along the line, when the world was beating him down, that guy had gotten lost. He could very well easily blame it on getting older, on becoming calmer and less energetic, but he knew that it all was a lie. Yeah, he was getting, and feeling older, but it was more than that.

A part of him had been stripped away, tossed around and left for dead. He'd felt it happening way before Staten Island. It started around the Nelda Carlson case, Nicole Wallace, John Tagman…Alex's kidnapping and then their breakup. It hadn't been something that happened overnight; this was a long time coming, the depression he found himself stuck in. The pain and heartache that would not go away.

The everything that happened on Staten Island, and consequences of those actions, had been the final straw. And now nothing in his life made sense to him anymore. He remembered feeling shattered, fragmented, and that feeling hadn't gone away. The holes between the pieces that made him were getting wider, feeling more jagged, and drifting further and further apart.

The feeling that he had lost and been trying to find ever since was one he had never gotten used to, and never really knew truly existed. Maybe that was why it was so damn hard for him to be happy, and to stay happy. Maybe that was why he had forgotten all about it.

"Anyway," Andrews said when it was obvious that he had nothing to say to him. "I needed you to know that. If you ever wanna get a drink with me sometime, it's on me, all right?"

Bobby nodded as he dropped his hand. Turning to Andrews, he held out his hand. He still couldn't speak, but he managed a small smile as the cop shook his hand and then tapped him on the shoulder before walking away. Taking some money out of his pocket, he paid for his drink and left as he no longer felt the desire to stay.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

When he stepped through the backdoor, he was greeted to the sound of silence. The light above the sink was on as he stumbled in and shut the door. He locked it and checked the alarm before tossing his keys on the table. As he worked his jacket off, he heard someone walking through the living room as Polly started chirping wildly. Glancing up, he saw Alex coming into the kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand and a case file.

Tossing the jacket on the back of a chair, he opened the refrigerator and looked around for something that might interest him. When nothing did, he shut the door, turned around and then leaned against it with his eyes closed as he felt the room spin.

"I'm not going to stay up with you on that floor again, Bobby."

Peering over at her, he said, "You won't need to because I can't do it, I can't…stop drinking. I just hav'ta not drink so much," he mumbled as he stepped over to the table and sat down heavily into a chair.

His head was spinning but felt light and heavy as he rested it in his left hand. Earlier, on the subway, the events of the whole day caught up with him along with his dark thoughts and desires.

He had tried to figure out why; what exactly was his motivation for wanting to do something so stupid as drinking excessively again, but the more he thought about it the more his mind darkened in confusion. There were too many things that it could have been: his depression, his thoughts that Alex was only going to leave him anyway, the feeling of not being able to completely trust her that still lingered deep within his troubled mind and soul, and along with his own self-destructive tendencies.

They were all just a bunch of excuses anyway. And not one of them would have been reason for forgiveness if he it had been the final straw to driving Alex away. If it hadn't, then he thought that there was always tomorrow to screw everything up. That was, if he lived that long.

"I got a call tonight."

"Huh," he huffed out a laugh against his hand that was covering his mouth, "I've been getting phone calls all night too. Three in particular; all from you."

Alex leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms as she stared over at him. "Elliot Stabler called to apologize; that was at a quarter to one. Want to tell me what it was that drove you back to the bottle again?"

He slammed his hand down on the table as he got up. "I don't need this," he said as he left the room, "If you want to hate me for-for, being human, then hate me…I don't care." He made his way down the hallway into the bedroom and crashed heavily on the bed. Kicking off his shoes, he draped his arm over his eyes as he panted his right foot on the floor and willed the room, along with his head, to stop spinning.

He heard her walk in and shut the door. "Bobby-"

Letting out a deep breath, he cut her off in a strained, soft voice, "I don't think I can do this anymore. I just want it to all stop."

"I wasn't trying to accuse you-"

"Yeah you were, and you have every right to be pissed off, Alex," he told her as he rubbed at his painfully burning eyes.

"If I'm to help you by being your support system, I need to know what it was that pushed you to that point."

Bobby felt himself start to laugh; then he saw the look on her face and his chuckling stopped. She was standing on the other side of the bed, arms still crossed over her chest, and couldn't tell if it was from the lack of light in the room, but she looked heartbroken. She looked as if she had lost all faith in him. "You don't trust me when I'm drinking."

Alex took a breath as she stared down at him. "In your current state of mind, and with these constant shifts in mood, Bobby, you're right, I don't. I don't think I can."

Turning away, he stared at the ceiling as he tried to focus on something to say. It was getting harder to think as his body grew heavy with exhaustion. "Maybe that's a good thing. You keep…blindly throwing your faith and trust into me, and you shouldn't."

"It's called love, Bobby."

"It's called being naïve, Alex. And of all the things you are in the world, I know you're not that."

He heard Alex sigh deeply in agitation as she asked a little too sternly, "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

There was so much he wanted to tell her, but couldn't. What help could she give to him anyway? A comforting hand, a look of understanding even though she really didn't understand? Sympathy…"Yeah, I talked to Nicole Wallace a few nights ago. She wanted to play our game, so I played…" he opened his eyes and peered over at her. At seeing the incredulous look she was giving him, he said, "Don't give me that look, you know she calls. We've already had this argument. This is part of who I am, you know this. You know that I write Wally Stevens, you know he's going to write me back. I'm trying to get him transferred to Philly so his mother can visit. And you know what, if John Tagman were still alive, I would probably be writing him too." rubbing at his head, he finally breathed out, "I can't get this kid out of my head, Alex. He reminds me so much of myself, it's practically scary thinking that…that we have so much in common. I could've been him, or…he could've been me, you know."

"Why'd you do this to yourself? Empathizing with criminals, keeping in contact with them. Have you ever thought of maybe one of them showing up here? What would you do if one of them shows up here, knocking on your door?"

Bobby stared over at her as he honestly told her, "I'll let them in." He muffled a strained yawn as he closed his eyes as the world around him faded.

TBC…


	10. Wednesday, February 16th, 2005 pt2

_A/N:_ Please make sure you read Ch.9 first! I posted two chapters in one day.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

_He heard the yelling as he opened his front door and stared down the hallway. Holding his gun down alongside his left leg, he went to step out when he felt Maria's hand on his shoulder. _

"_Be careful, Roberto," she softly whispered to him before letting go._

_He glanced back at her, giving her a reassuring smile, before moving slowly and quietly down the hallway. The yelling got louder as he approached the stairwell. Looking down, he saw three men in a scuffle. Two were ganging up on one guy who was down on the steps. _

_Then he heard it, loud and clear like a gunshot. _

"_Bobby!"_

_He took off down the steps, gun drawn to the ready as the man's voice registered in his drunken head. It was his brother. Rounding the landing, he screamed out, "Get away from him! Get off or I'll shoot!"_

_The two men looked up and at seeing his gun, took off across the small entranceway and out the front door. Bending down, he grabbed Frank up by his upper arm and got him standing._

_Leaning him up against the railing, he asked, "Who were those guys? What's going on?"_

"_Can I…come up?" Frank asked as he gasped for breath._

_Noticing him cradling his stomach and cringing in pain, he let Frank wrap his arm around his shoulders as he helped him up the stairs and down the hall to his apartment._

_Maria was pacing around the living room when they entered and at seeing the sight of his brother, gasped in shock. "I'll get him something for the pain," she rushed out as she went into the bathroom then returned with a bottle of aspirin._

_Taking it from her, he said, "Probably not a good idea, he could have internal bleeding."_

"_I don't have internal bleeding," Frank said as he sat on the couch. "They only got in a few good punches, but they did take my wallet and all the money I had."_

_He stared over at his brother as he asked, "What, Frank? Were they chasing you for it? Were those guys collecting on a bet?"_

_Maria looked from him and down to Frank, asking, "You two know each other?"_

_Answering her question, he told his girlfriend, "Frank's my brother."_

_Frank smiled up at Maria, saying, "Hello," before turning back to him. "So what if they were? I was going to pay; they didn't have to jump me."_

"_Why'd you come here?"_

"_It was close," Frank told him as he went to stand. "And I can see that I interrupted…"_

_He looked down at his bare chest and undone jeans as he felt his neck heat up. He'd been in such a hurry that he didn't take the time to straighten himself up. Putting his gun on the bookshelf, he looked over at his girlfriend as he fixed his zipper._

_Maria was pulling her black silk robe close around her even as she told Frank, "You should stay. Tell your brother to stay," she asked of him, "at least until the morning to make sure he's okay."_

_Taking a glance at Frank, he eased up to Maria as he told her, "I don't mind him staying for as long it takes for us to get him a cab. He said he's fine."_

"_Bobby thinks I'm going to steal from him."_

_Sighing heavily, he looked over his shoulder at Frank as he told him, "Yeah, and tell her why? Go 'head, Frank. Better yet, why don't I do it because knowing you, you'll lie about it."_

_Frank shook his head at him as he looked to Maria, "I've got nothing to hide. Everyone knows I've got a problem."_

"_A problem?" he snapped. "It's more like a disease, Frank. One that not only eats you alive, but it reaches out and infects everyone you come in contact with."_

"_What're you talking about, the gambling?" Maria asked._

"_It's not just the gambling," he told her, "He's also a junkie, been one for years. The last time I let him stay with me, I came home to find half my shit gone."_

_Frank sheepishly smirked as he said, "It wasn't half your shit, and I apologized for that and asked for forgiveness, Bobby. God will forgive-"_

"_Will you stop with that God forgives all bullshit, Frank," he snapped at him as he stepped closer to his brother._

_Maria was next to him and when he looked over at her, he saw the stern look in her eyes right before she smacked him on the shoulder. "Don't disrespect the Lord in front of me again, Roberto," she warned him._

"_I'm sorry," he apologized before staring back at Frank. "God may forgive you, but I won't."_

"_Why can't you forgive him?" Maria asked, interrupting._

"_That's none of your business," he snapped at her as he kept his eyes on his brother. "It's personal."_

"_He's familia," Maria sternly told him._

"_You should listen to your girlfriend, Bobby. Besides being such a hot Puerto Rican, she obviously knows what she's talking about."_

"_What'd you say?" he nearly yelled as he shoved Frank hard in the chest._

_Frank stumbled back and hit the side of the coffee table. "Hey! That was a compliment."_

_He shoved him again, making Frank fall on top of the table and knocking the whiskey bottle over that'd been sitting on it._

_Maria was suddenly in front of him, pushing him back. "What're you doing? You push him, but he's not fighting back. You leave it alone."_

"_He never fights back because he's a coward. He never fights for anything, not even himself!"_

"_I'd rather be a coward than a bully," Frank yelled at him as he got to his feet. "You don't always use your fist, but you always use your words. That's all you ever do. Intimidate and bully people around."_

"_That's called doing my job, Frank."_

"_I'm not talking about your job! You do it all the time and to everyone! Has he done it to you yet?" Frank asked Maria. "Huh? Has he corrected you, told you that you're wrong? Has he snapped at you for having the guts to contradict the all mighty know-it-all," Frank sneered at him. Stepping up to him, he said, "Has he made you feel that you're always wrong and he's always right? That you don't matter. That everyone lies and he'll never, ever, trust you no matter what? No matter how many times you say you're sorry, you'll never be good enough to be forgiven by him! You know what, Bobby, for someone who hates our father as much as you do, you sure do remind me a lot of him."_

_He lost it. At the mention of being compared to their father, he snapped. Before he could stop himself, his fist slammed into Frank's face. As he grabbed him up to hit him again, Maria grabbed him, keeping him from pounding his brother again._

"_Let go!"_

_He finally did as he was told as he let go of Frank by pushing him to the floor. "He-"_

"_I don't care what he's done or what he is. You don't hate familia, you perdonar. You forgive," Maria scolded him as she pushed him away so she could help Frank up off the floor._

_Glancing at his brother, he saw his nose bleeding from where he'd hit him and his lip busted. Turning away, he went into the bathroom and dug through the cabinet for his first aid kit. He returned to the living room and handed it to Maria who glared at him as she sat down on the coffee table in front of Frank and started to tend to his injuries._

"_Nunca te lo perdonaré," Maria told him as she used handed Frank some cotton balls to stop his nose from bleeding._

"_And what's that?" he asked to her telling him that she wouldn't forgive him for that._

"_Orgullo," she told him in anger. "Pride. You have too much of it. You can't even admit that your brother is right when he says that you can never be wrong."_

"_I can."_

"_You're wrong now. Admit it," she asked of him._

"_I'm not wrong and I'm not sorry for hitting him," he defended himself as he stared down at her._

"_See, orgullo. Haven't you ever heard of más dura será la caída?"_

_He took a breath as he felt his jaw work back-and-forth as he tried to calm his anger. "Pride goes before a fall…of course."_

"_That fall is going to be yours," she told him. "It's going to ruin you if you don't learn how to swallow it."_

_Staring down at his girlfriend, he felt jaw twitch at that accusation. Glaring over at Frank, he shook his head in annoyance as he picked up the whiskey bottle off the floor that had been knocked over. As he headed into the kitchen, he told him, "When she gets done, I want you to leave."_

"_You can count on it. Thanks for nothing, Bobby, I appreciate everything you've done for me," he sarcastically called out to him from the other room._

"_Stop it, Frank. Just because I'm helping you doesn't mean I like what you did," he heard Maria tell him. "You were just as wrong as he was."_

_Bobby tossed the empty bottle into the trash before pulling down another one out of the cabinet along with a glass. Sitting down heavily in the kitchen chair, he poured himself a drink as he leaned back in the chair and stared at the wall until he heard Frank leave a few minutes later._

"_I gave him money for cab fare," Maria told him as she entered the kitchen. She picked up the bottle, feeling the weight of it before setting in it back down. "New bottle."_

_Glancing over at her, and then down into his drink, he quietly told her, "This isn't working…" He took a sip of the drink as she sat back in the chair across from him and stared in surprise._

"_You're breaking up with me?"_

"_I want my key back before you-"_

_Maria was out of the chair and going off on him, cursing at him in Spanish. Bobby let her rant and rave as he stayed sitting in the chair. She called him everything in the book from an asshole to the most stubborn man she'd ever known, and a whole lot worse. He heard her in his bedroom, packing up some of her clothes that she had kept there along with some of her stuff as she continued to curse him. Before she left, he felt the key he'd given her hit the side of his head when she threw it at him on her way out._

_The sound of the door slamming shut made him swallow down hard before he finished off his drink. Leaning over sideways, he picked up the key and then tossed it on the table._

Staring at his cell phone, he finally flipped it open and made the call he'd been wanting to make since he awoken with that memory in his head. Hearing it ring, he wondered if Frank would actually pick up the phone.

On the sixth ring, it went to voicemail.

Feeling his chest ache a little, he left a message for Frank to call him back, that he needed to talk to him and wanted to see him. Shutting the phone, he picked up the cigarette out of the ashtray as he sat back in the chair. He heard a pair of heels click over the wood floor and glanced over to see Alex walk in from the living room.

She didn't look too happy with him as she went over to the cabinet and took out a coffee cup. "One night of blissful sleep followed by a night of no sleep."

"Sorry," he gravely told her as he stared at the table. "I should've at least called."

"No, you should've at least come home," she told him as she went over to the refrigerator and got out a carton of yogurt and a fruit bowl she'd made.

"I'll let you key my car if you want," he told her as she glanced over at him. "I'll even give you the key to do it with."

Alex chuckled as she sat down across from him with her breakfast. "As tempting as that may be, I'd rather not."

"I had an ex-girlfriend actually do that once. I'm the first to admit that I had it coming. Maria Santiago…she was Puerto Rican. I wasn't too surprised, she always did have a fiery passion that drove me crazy."

"What'd you do to make her do it?"

"Broke up with her," he vaguely told her as he took a sip of his own coffee. At seeing Alex's look, he said, "I did a lot of things I shouldn't have done, but that _was_ what set her off. She loved me. And she treated me very, _very_ well…That's why I broke her heart. I realized that she did love me, wanted to save me from myself…and I did what I had always done when a relationship got that serious. I pushed her away the only way I knew how…I told her to leave," he shamefully admitted.

"How old were you?"

Bobby shrugged as he told her, "Thirty-six. It was during my first year as a Narcotics detective."

"You didn't love her?"

Swallowing hard around his tight throat, he told her, "We had a lot of fun together…but, no, I didn't. I wanted to. Even thought I could at one point, but…I had no idea how. I'm still not very good at it, am I?" he timidly asked as he took a quick glance up at the woman he did love but didn't know how. "I messed up last night. I gave in and had a drink while I was on the job," he admitted. "The cravings got worse and I couldn't take it any longer. I went to Ray's," he stared over at Alex as he waited for her reaction.

She didn't start yelling, but instead, gently asked, "Was that the right way or the wrong way to have handled it?"

Breathing out, Bobby closed his eyes as he leaned on heavily on his perched arms. Willing his stubborn pride down, he gave a nod, saying, "The wrong way. I could've handled everything better by…coming home instead."

Alex let out a breath of her own and smiled over at him. "I think this is called progress. You may have slipped, but you can see that you were wrong and now you can focus on doing it the right way the next time you're tempted. I'm not expecting you to never drink again, Bobby. I know you won't stop completely. What I am hoping for is for you to stop using it as a crutch, and as the only means for you to deal. I know that being alone for as long as you have, you've come to rely on drinking to be your only source in relieving whatever it is that stresses you out. I drink too, so it's not like I can't relate, but I also talk to my family and friends."

"You think that I need to change my behavior?" he asked as he looked over at her. "Like, uh…to, um…You want me to get used to coming to you, to talk to you, instead of turning first to alcohol."

Giving a nod, she told him, "Yes, I do. In order to learn how to do that, I think you need to completely free yourself from drinking as your means of coping."

Looking over at her, he felt himself want to smile at that. "You really have been reading that book, haven't you?"

Alex smiled before laughing a little. "Of course. I love you and I want to help you with this. I may not understand everything about behavior modification, but that sounded like it made sense."

"Thank you," he told her. "I mean that. I've never had anyone go through the trouble you've gone through, and to not only stuck with me, but is actually…going to great lengths to…to _help_, me, Alex. You didn't…" he felt himself unable to speak as his throat cracked and he felt his eyes start to burn.

She got up from her seat and crossed over to him.

Pulling her onto his lap, he let her hold him as he closed his eyes and just let himself feel safe, and loved. Whispering into her neck, he told her, "I love you so much."

One day at a time, he kept telling himself as he hugged her tighter as he felt her kiss him over his head and temple.

One day at a time.

* * *

><p><em><span>Major Case Squad<span>_

Alex received a text from Bobby and she had to wrinkle her head in confusion at it. He wanted her to ask the Patterson's about their cat when she went to their house to talk to Zach that afternoon. Shaking her head, she signed as she sat back in her seat and stared at her laptop and all the information that had been recovered off of Gardner's laptop.

Also, there as a cell phone sitting on her desk that had all the recovered data from Gardner's damaged cell phone transferred into it. A single cell phone entry that Gardner had written to himself, was their only lead.

It confirmed that he planned a meeting at his newly bought brownstone the afternoon before the indictment hearing. Taking a sip of her third cup of coffee, she cursed Bobby for worrying her last night by not calling or coming home until early that morning, which caused her to not get any sleep.

"I have an five-hour energy drink if you want it," Logan offered as he pulled out the small bottle from his drawer.

She looked at it, very tempted to take it when she heard someone call out to them.

"Detectives Eames and Logan?"

Alex looked over and saw a uniform escorting a young black man into the squad room. The young man had a visitor's pass clipped to his New York Knicks jacket and she spotted the right arm in a sling under the jacket instead of in the sleeve. "Yes," she said as she stood. "You must be Rob Jenkins?"

Rob gave a nod as he said, "Yea, that's me."

Alex gave a nod to the uniform, letting the cop know that he can leave them alone. "Why don't you have a seat in here," she said as she escorted Rob into the interview room. "Would you like something to drink? We have a soda machine, or coffee?"

"Coffee's free, ain't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"I'll have that," he told her and she gave him a smile as she turned to leave him alone in the room, shutting the door behind her.

Logan was perched on the edge of his desk as she walked by to go into the break room. "White guy, black guy."

Alex glanced back over at Rob as she told Logan, "Even if they were the two that the witness places coming and going from the brownstone, how could Rob help carry the ADA?"

"I don't know yet…but I bet he found a way."

Alex went into the break room and poured them both a cup of coffee; she grabbed a handful of sugar packets and a couple of straws before going back into the interview room. Logan was in there waiting for her and he opened the door for her and then shut it as he stood in front of it.

She sat the cup in front of Rob and the sugar packets and a straw. Leaning back in her chair, she took a sugar packet and ripped it open, adding it to her coffee.

Rob looked between her and Logan as he used his teeth to rip a packet open to add it to his coffee. "You want to know about Zach, don't you?"

"He told us what happened," Logan said from his place at the door, as he crossed his arms. "We want to hear it from you?"

"Hear what?" Rob asked accusingly as he huffed out a laugh, "That we got wasted, played video games all night."

"How can you play a video game with one hand?" Alex asked as she stirred the sugar in her coffee with a straw.

Rob glanced over at her as he said, "I dislocated my shoulder, not chop off my thumbs. I can still use my hand, lady."

"That's Detective Eames to you," Logan sternly told the guy, causing Rob to quickly apologize.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean no disrespect," Rob told her before he took a sip of the coffee. "This tastes horrible."

Alex chuckled as she took a bigger gulp of hers. "You get used to it. So, spill. Tuesday night."

"Like I said, we got wasted and played video games. I'm Zach's only friend since the news hit about his pops. I was the only one who stood by him and believed him when he told me he was innocent. I know how the system works. How you can get it wrong. Mainstreamers like to think the cops are never wrong or at fault. What a joke." Rob looked back-and-forth before saying, "Obviously not you two."

She heard Logan huff out a laugh which caused her to smirk slightly. Even though Rob was in the middle of a police station, he didn't care to hide his mistreat of the police. "And after you played video games?"

He gave a one shoulder shrug as he told her, "We got more drunk."

"With being as wasted as he was, I'm surprised Zach wasn't going off," Logan said as he walked over to the table and sat down beside her.

Rob took a sip of the coffee again and winced. Picking up another packet of sugar, he said, "You kiddin'? That was all he did. I don't blame 'im for being so pissed off. He kept going on about how much he hated that detective on the case."

Alex glanced over at Logan who gave a nod. "He was furious with the cops?"

"He said you were incompetent assholes," Rob said before he once again smiled. "I doubt you're an asshole. He might be," he gestured to Logan.

Logan smirked as he told him, "I'm the biggest one in the five boroughs, and I've worked all five. I should know."

Rob chuckled at that as he stirred the sugar around in the cup before taking another test taste. "Still horrible, but it's a'ight."

"And Wednesday?" Alex asked as she downed the rest of hers.

Giving another shrug, said, "I don't know. When I woke up, he was gone."

"What time did you wake up?" Logan asked.

"The sun was up. I spent the whole day in bed recoverin'. That boy likes his vodka straight and he forced me to drink it with him. I don't drink like that."

"That interfere with your job?" Logan asked, gesturing to Rob's injured shoulder.

"Yea. I do drafting, like Zach. I can't draw or type left-handed. I'm off for another week."

"I heard about how it happened. Sorry to hear about the stove."

Rob looked blankly at him for a second before trying to cover it by laughing it off. "Funny shit, huh?"

Alex smiled as she heard Logan's response.

"Hysterical."

"That it?" Rob asked as he picked up the cup of coffee to leave.

Logan got up and went to the door. "That's it," he told him as he opened the door to let him out.

Once Rob was out of the squad room, Alex turned to Logan. "He had no clue about the stove."

"Zach lied about how he injured his shoulder and forgot to tell him about it."

Going over to her desk, she grabbed her coat as she said, "Let's go see what Zach has to say about all this. We'll also see what they know about Audrey's connection to Gardner."

* * *

><p><em><span>En-route to Guy Patterson's Home <span>_

_Long Island_

"What if Zach has no idea?"

"You're assuming the worst."

"Assume the worst, plan for the worst. That's my motto," Logan told her.

Alex glanced over at him and smirked. "You sound like Bobby, pessimistic."

"Huh, I call it being realistic. So, Eames…you're happy being partnered with me?"

Shrugging, she told him as she rounded a corner, "It could be worse. I plan for the best, assume the worst. So far, you're better than I assumed."

Logan started laughing at that. They had been talking the entire drive and she was surprised that Logan was a good conversationalist. Whenever she took long drives with Bobby, he would either be the one doing all the talking, or he barely talked at all, leaving her to listen to the radio.

As they got closer to the house, he asked, "How'd you want to go at them?"

"Oh, I don't know. The usual way I guess. Depending on who responds better to whom, we'll separate and go from there."

"The ol' divide and conquer. I'm game," Logan agreed as she pulled by alongside the sidewalk and parked.

Getting out, they made their way up the walk to the house. There were two vehicles parked in the driveway, a BMW and a Honda that was a couple of years old. From the interior of the Honda, Alex knew that it had to belong to Zach.

"Who leaves CD's and an I-Pod in the car?"

"A twenty-five year old," Alex said as she knocked on the door as Logan came up beside her.

He stuffed his hands into his leather jacket as he took in the neighborhood. There was melted snow everywhere, exposing patches of dead grass and leaves. "You know, I grew up in a house in Brooklyn. It had one tree and no grass. You come out here, and it's like a different country. I bet they even own a lawn mower."

"Brooklyn may be called a 'suburb', but that's only because it's outside the city."

"You're telling me. I didn't even know what a park was until I was thirteen. I played on the jungle gym all day and night, never wanted to leave. I thought I was at Disney World."

"The first time my old man took me upstate, I thought I was in Canada. I saw a cow and actually said to him, "I only thought they existed in pop-up books.""

Logan chuckled as the door opened to reveal a man she knew to be Guy Patterson.

"Mr. Patterson, I'm Detective Eames, this is Detective Logan. We're with Major Case."

Patterson looked over their shields before letting them in, "Come in, please. I wasn't expecting…Where's the other detective?"

"Goren?" Logan asked and when Patterson nodded, he told him, "He's currently with Special Victim's, working on your case."

Alex was surprised to not hear any anger or hate in Logan's voice as he said that. She wondered if he finally let it go, or if he was profession enough to leave personal feelings off the job.

Patterson looked surprised by that but then he smiled a little. "Zach told me that, but…"

"You didn't believe him?" she asked.

"I've been trying to get the police to help me since this whole thing started, and I was never believed. When Zach told me, I thought that maybe Detective Goren was only telling him that to get him to talk. I should've known, though. When he was here, he didn't strike me as the type of man to lie about something like that. He seemed very honest."

Alex glanced over at Logan as she smiled a little. "Speaking of Zach, is he home?"

"He's in the room above the garage. Why? You spoke with him the other day," Patterson asking in confusion as he started to move for toward the back of the house as he spoke.

"There's some things we need clarified," Logan said as he followed.

As Alex went to follow him, she caught sight of a teenage looking girl coming from another hallway. "Hi, you must be…"

"Hi, I'm Chloe," the girl told her in a way that made Alex smile back at her.

Patterson stopped at the kitchen door and turned around when he heard his daughter. "Elise, these are police officers. Please, go back to your room and play, sweetie. It's okay."

"I want juice, daddy."

Patterson glanced at them as he told them, "Just, the stairs to the upstairs are through the backdoor, past the kitchen."

Logan looked back at her and gestured toward the kitchen, "I'll go talk to him. Why don't you…"

"I'll help you get juice for your daughter with two names," Alex teased slightly, causing Patterson to smile.

"She likes to go by her first name, but we call her by her middle…Elise," he called over to his daughter as he led them into the kitchen after Logan went in.

Alex looked around the room as she took in the cluttered sink and counters, the refrigerator full of colored drawings and pictures. A white board was on the wall with marker written all over it of the family's busy schedule. As of last, there wasn't much written over the board. "Where's your wife?"

Patterson pulled down a plastic cup as he glanced over at her, "She went to stay with her sister. She's looking for work."

She heard a hint of apprehension in his voice when he told her that. Alex didn't know if it was because it was a lie, or if there was another reason why his wife was staying with her sister instead of here with her family. "She trusts you with the kids?"

"Kid," Patterson corrected, "And yes, she does." He poured some juice into the cup and then handed it to his daughter. "Zach's an adult, and he's a decent cook," he teased slightly. "Elise loves him being around, and he loves being around her, so when Audrey went to Maryland there was no argument about both staying here with me."

Alex blinked back as she asked, "Maryland? She's trying to get a job in the D.C. area?"

Smiling, he told her, "That's where she went to college. She loves it there, and it's where her only relative lives."

"What's her sister's name?"

Patterson gave her a look as he leaned back on the counter. Elise had left the kitchen a few seconds ago, so he no longer held anything back as he told her, "What's this about again? Why are you questioning my son?"

Alex bite her lip as she didn't know how to gently bring this up, but deciding to go for all or nothing, asked, "She went to Georgetown, correct?"

Patterson gave curt nod as he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring her down.

"We discovered that ADA Alec Gardner also went to Georgetown. He was there during the time your wife was also studying there. All three of you even graduated high school together."

Patterson had a quick look of confusion before his confusion turned to suspension and near anger, "You think that my wife had an affair with Gardner?"

Alex asked, "Affair?"

"Yes," he nearly snapped. "An affair, detective."

When it clicked in her head, she said, "You two dated in high school, and while you were both in college."

"She got accepted to Georgetown, while I went to Colombia because she told me she wanted to go to college with her sister. We saw each other on holidays and over the summer."

Alex really wished either Bobby or Logan was there to help calm Patterson down because the distraught man was getting angrier by the second. "Mr. Patterson, forgive me. I didn't know your sister-in-law attended the same university."

"But you're saying that you think that, what? That my son isn't my son!" Patterson yelled and that was when she heard someone coming into the kitchen.

Looking over, she saw Logan coming through the backdoor as he said, "Mr. Patterson, calm down. I could hear you all the way upstairs."

Walking in behind Logan was Zach. The son looked confused and worried as he looked from his dad to the two of them. "My mother would never do that," he told her as he went over to stand beside his dad. "She loves him, and I'm my father's son."

"We didn't-"

"I don't care what you cops didn't mean to do, you need to leave!"

"Zachary, don't yell at the detectives," Patterson said with a bit of calm back into his voice. "I shouldn't have snapped at you," he told her. "That was…I wasn't expecting that. I apologize. You were just doing your job."

Alex glanced over at Logan who shook his head. "It's okay, Mr. Patterson. We'll see ourselves out. Thank you for your time."

They made their way out of the house and into the SUV before they both looked at one another.

"Well?" she asked him.

"I mentioned to him about talking to Rob, he didn't seem concerned about it. When I brought up that Rob had no idea about the stove, he admitted that he did lie about it. He didn't want the real reason to Rob's dislocated shoulder to get out."

Alex looked at Logan, waiting for the answer.

"As for the affair, I think that the only person who knows the real answer to that question is Audrey."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him as Logan blatantly left out what Zach had told her about the dislocated shoulder. Letting it go, for now, she started the engine. "This could be a dead end. Zach could be Patterson's biological son and we're spinning our wheels while the real killer is getting further away."

"We need to confirm this sister story first, but you may be right," Logan said. "From Gardner's recovered cell phone entry, he was planning on meeting someone at that Brownstone that Wednesday afternoon. When we get back to 1PP, we're searching everything for any connection. I'm also going to get a hold of the rental company, and all the places Gardner bought the equipment he was using to restore that house. He had to have enlisted help."

"The meeting could've been with a construction crew. The men our witness saw could've been them."

"A ninety year old woman…" Logan said as he glanced over at her. "Who's constantly peeping tom-ing over her neighborhood. It's possible she got the dates mixed up. We've really got nothing except for a faulty eye witness and circumstantial evidence at best."

"What about the shoulder?" she asked as they were heading away from the house. "You sidestepped the answer."

Logan sighed as he rubbed over his head. "He didn't want me to tell anyone, but you are my partner."

Alex took a look over at him, "And?"

"That kid is scared to death of anyone finding out, especially his parents. You have to promise not to say anything to them."

"Logan," she nearly snapped out. "If I don't have to reveal it, I won't."

Logan was quiet for a moment before telling her, "They're together, him and Rob. He dislocated his shoulder during sex."

Alex nearly drove off the road before catching herself. Looking over at Logan, she said, "I thought he had an ex-girlfriend?"

"Well, that was all about word play. When he said he had a girlfriend, he literally meant he had a friend that was a girl. They had a falling out, a break up of their friendship, when the news broke of the sex scandal. He lied about the whole thing to make us think it had been a relationship gone bad, and that was why he was fired instead of the real reason."

"Oh…okay." She was quiet a moment before saying, "I can see why his parents would be furious, they're Catholic. Poor guy, having to hide that from the family he obviously loves so much. Scared to death that they won't love him anymore if they were to find out."

Logan sighed heavily as he looked out the window. "This whole case…" he said more to himself than to her.

"I know," she agreed even though she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was exactly about the case that was starting to get to them all.

For her, it could've been more than just the case, but what was also going on between her and Bobby. Along with the changes in partners and Bobby leaving Major Case temporarily. She didn't know. All she knew was that it wasn't going to get any better. She had a feeling that they were at the tip of the iceberg with this case, and in her personal relationship.

If she was being completely honest, she felt a storm coming, and she had no idea when or where or who it was going to hit.

"Hey, since we're out this way, do you want to head over to Rockaway and check out those apartments?"

Alex smiled as she looked over at Logan. That actually sounded like a good idea. It would take both their minds off the case for a few hours before heading back to 1PP.

* * *

><p><em><span>3<span>__rd__ Street Diner_

He had taken an early lunch break after he'd received a call back from Frank that morning. They arranged to meet at the diner in Williamsburg since it was closer to where Frank was currently at. He didn't mind taking off early; they were going to hit the high school after classes were let out around three that afternoon and until then they were handling the paperwork and going over everything they'd learned last night. Not to mention that he had his weekly Post-Tramua counseling group session that afternoon at one.

With still no hit on the Isaac guy, Fin had went to the nightclub to gather the security footage from Eli while he headed to the diner. Bobby took a seat at the counter and waited as he ached to light a cigarette as he sipped on a cup of coffee. He was afraid that Frank wouldn't show, but then a quarter after their met time, he heard the chime of the bell above the door. When he looked, there was Frank walking his way in a nice, and clean, pair of jeans and a thick black coat.

"How're you doing, Frank?"

"Good, I'm good," Frank answered as he sat down next to him and order a coffee.

"You look good, nice coat. Are you working?" he asked as he took a sip of the black coffee.

"I got something going with a friend of mine. He got me one with his roofing company. Bobby, what is this about? You call me up to come meet you. I know it wasn't just to catch up, you always have an agenda to see me."

Bobby looked away as he felt the truth in those words. Funny thing was, he could say the same to the only reasons Frank ever bothered to see him. "The, um…the meetings that, uh…that you go to, they help, don't they? I mean…" he trailed off as he looked over at Frank.

Frank's blue eyes glared suspiciously at him as he said, "What is this, you're checking up on me, is that it?"

"That's not…" he struggled with how to say what he really wanted to say as he felt the embarrassment to his own weakness creep up. "It works, right? Even for people, you know, like me who doesn't have faith."

Frank stared at him for a long moment in confusion and then realization. "Oh, shit. You're talking about you."

Giving a nod, he asked again, more calmly, "It's works, yeah?"

Frank was quiet for a second and then he told him, "My sponsor told me that it only works as much as you want it to. You get out of it what you put into it. It's not easy, that's why there's such a thing called relapse. No one's perfect," he said and Bobby knew how much it must've hurt his brother to say that.

Their father had raised Frank to be a perfectionist and to never fail. When Frank failed, he was punished for it. His brother could never be less than first, as Captain of the basketball or baseball team. To never give less than a hundred and ten percent. He always had to be perfect, be the favorite…The golden boy.

And Frank was better than good; he was exceptional. He could've been a pro. He remembered being nine years old and watching his brother throw his first no-hitter. He could see it as clear as if it were yesterday. Frank standing on the pitcher's mound staring down the batter, looking as calm and cool as a twelve year old could. The moment he threw his last pitch, and the umpire called strike, Frank had collapsed. He had hit his knees on that mound and nearly crumbled with relief.

It was the first time he had seen just how much pressure had been on his brother's shoulders to not fail…to be absolutely perfect.

Then when Frank did finally fail, he had fallen and his drop had been long and hard. And once he hit bottom, he didn't know how to pick himself back up.

Frank, instead of turning to his younger brother for help and guidance, had turned to their father for it. Their father had did to Frank what he always did to him when he failed, he punished him by not helping him at all. He had turned his back on his perfect, golden boy son, and that had driven Frank right over the edge and straight to drugs.

Part of the reason why he still held so much hate and spite for his dead father was because of that. He had lost his only brother the moment William Goren failed Frank as a father. That had been nearly twenty years ago, and Frank was still lost and he didn't think he would ever get him back.

And God, how he wanted his brother back. He did love Frank, so much so that it hurt and destroyed a little part of his own soul whenever he saw him messed up. It absolutely killed him that he could never help Frank. His brother had so much potential, so much to give, and he had given up and thrown it all away.

He didn't know how to tell Frank how much it scared him. How he would fear every day waking to a phone call telling him that his brother was dead from an overdose or some accident that could've been prevented if he hadn't been high at the time. His chest was hurting, throbbing in pain, from just thinking about it.

Frank nudged him, snapping him out of his dark thoughts, as he told him, "But it is embarrassing at first. I know how you absolutely hate to be embarrassed. You hate that more than you hate being wrong."

Bobby smiled a little as he stared down into his cup of coffee, trying to breathe.

"You get over the embarrassment once you realize that no one in that room is judging you. They can't judge you because they've all been there." Frank was quiet a moment and then shook his head. "It's alcohol, isn't it?" When he gave a nod, he heard him chuckle a little. "Should've known that sooner or later it would get to you. I remember catching you once, remember?"

"I was fourteen," Bobby softly said and felt the sting of pain gnaw at his gut. He was so young, just a kid, but felt so much older.

"You had boosted a bottle from the liquor store and I caught you coming out with it."

"I think I tried to tell you that I bought it for mom."

"But mom didn't drink whiskey," Frank started laughing. "You were such a bad liar back then. I knew you were full of it. I should've turned you in." He should've, if he hadn't been afraid that their dad would've found out and accused Frank of also being behind it. "You know why I didn't?"

Bobby gave a shrug, saying, "You were afraid that dad would've thought you were also in on it."

Frank smiled a little but said, "You're wrong. Yeah, that could've been part of it, but…I know it wouldn't have mattered. Dad would've gotten angry at you, hit you, for embarrassing him like that. Mom would've threatened you, or if she was in one of her delusions, not even cared or, she would've cared too much and called the cops or something."

"And what would I have done?"

Frank looked over at him and told you, "You know what you would have done. You would've taken it again, but the next time you would've made sure you weren't caught. How long did it take you to drink that thing anyway?"

"About two months, I think. I had to hide it so mom wouldn't find it. Whenever I couldn't take it anymore, I would sneak a drink just to calm myself down."

"I remember us having to patch up a few holes in your bedroom wall and door after you couldn't calm down," Frank said with a smirk. Then he got serious again as he asked, "Have you dealt with your anger issues, because that's really going to hinder your recovery."

Rubbing at his head, Bobby shook it as he told him, "I'm trying, but…"

"If you really want to conquer this, you have to try harder. Take it from me, you don't want to half-ass it."

Looking over at his brother, he stared at him as he said, "You should take your own advice, Frank."

Frank looked away, staring down at the counter as he picked up the sugar and added more of it to his cup of coffee. It was a junkies tell, craving sugar and sweets as if their life depended on it. "You're my brother and you're actually coming to me for help. I want to help you with this. I know what it's like and it's the worst thing in the world to live with. You don't think I really want to stop, because I do, Bobby."

It was amazing, the difference in Frank when he was clean and sober to when he was high and messed up. When Frank was using, he was angry, bitter, and spiteful. He would say whatever he needed to get what he wanted. He hated everything and everyone and he wouldn't take the time to help another person. All he thought about was himself and what he wanted.

When Frank was sober, he acted like a decent human being. He reminded him a lot of the Frank he used to know as a kid. The brother he wished he had all the time instead of when Frank decided to straighten up for a job or a girlfriend. Once that job ended, and that girlfriend left, Frank would once again be back to using again. And this brother that he always wanted would once again be lost.

It was a never-ending cycle.

"You have to trust in your higher power. Go back to the Church and start praying. It helps."

Rubbing his hands over his face, he barely snapped out, "Prayer is a waste of breath. I don't have an higher power, Frank. All I have, and will ever have, is me."

Frank gave a brief nod as he told him, "Then trust in yourself. Lord knows you've been doing that your whole life anyway. You could never trust anyone else, but you never had a problem trusting your own damn self." The bitterness, and envy, he heard in that statement stabbed at his heart.

His brother was right. He only ever really trusted his own self and no one else, not even his own family. Where he relied on himself, Frank never could. Frank had no idea how to be his own person, his own man, and how to rely on his own strength, or will, or mind. He always had to find that trust in something or someone else. Frank could very easily give up, do nothing to help himself, and leave it all up to faith, to prayer. And none of it did anything to help him.

In that moment he felt extremely sorry for Frank. He almost regretted all the anger and bitterness of his own that he held for him.

They didn't do hugs. That wasn't who they were with each other, but he remembered the first time he saw Frank after he was abducted; it had been in a diner like that one and Frank had actually pulled him into a hug, thankful that he was still alive. That meeting had ended badly because of his own anger. He had pushed Frank away, made him leave.

Closing his eyes at those thoughts, and wanting to give his brother some form of thanks even though it wouldn't be a hug or a 'I love you', he reached over and patted Frank on his shoulder. Leaning in, he opened his eyes to glance up at him, saying, "I got this, okay?"

Frank looked a little stunned, but gave a nod, saying, "Okay, sure."

Bobby paid for both of their coffees as he stood up. "I'm glad you're working…It suits you," he lightly teased before saying, "Try to take care of yourself, okay. I'll see you around."

"You too, Bobby. And hey, for a guy like you, I don't think sobriety would be too hard to manage. Mom always said that you were the lucky one, after all."

The lucky one…And how exactly was he lucky? He wasn't sure because he didn't know. The only difference that had separated him and Frank was that he got out. He had left when he had the chance while Frank stayed, but he wasn't lucky. That was for damn sure.

He pushed open the door to the diner and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. The forecast had called for snow today and it was staring to drift slowly to the ground. As he made his way to his car, he wondered if he would ever see Frank again that sober.

Or, if at all.

Checking his watch, he saw that he had enough time to get to his Post-Trauma counseling session. Pulling his coat further around him, he opened his car door and got in.

* * *

><p><em><span>St. Luke's Catholic High School<span>_

_NoHo, Manhattan_

The high school in the middle of NoHo was exactly what they expected. It was a building that looked like it should've been a bank and there was no parking lot for seniors, no outdoor athletic facility of their own, and apparently no heat as it was freezing inside the school. Everyone he passed in the hall were all wearing their jackets because it was so cold.

Going into the office, he asked the woman behind the desk, "The heat doesn't work?"

The woman looked up at him from behind a set of coke-bottle glasses as she told him, "It broke yesterday. They haven't fixed it yet, Mr…"

Taking out his shield, he told her, "Detective Goren. This is Detective Stabler. We have a meeting with the Principal." At seeing her stern look, he said, "Sorry, I meant your Dean of Students…"

"I thought it was the Admissions Director?" Elliot asked as he looked over at him.

Bobby stepped back as he acted like he was thinking about it, "I think you could be right. But, I also scheduled with the Dean of Academics as well. I don't remember the times."

The woman behind the desk sighed heavily in annoyance before she said, "I can look it up for you."

"Would you do that? And while you're at it, inform all of them that we want to meet with them at the same time."

"And place, preferably," Elliot added with a stern look of his own as Bobby smiled.

It wasn't long before an irritated looking man who introduced himself as Benjamin Hall, the Dean of Students, lead them to a freezing cold room on the second floor of the school. It appeared to be a conference room with one big long table in the middle and a lot of chairs. A few computers were on desks along the wall.

Three other men were in the room. Jacob McCabe, the Dean of Academics, Gerald Warner, Admissions Director, and Mark Sergeant, the new Athletic Director and Head Coach.

"Our Headmaster is currently out of the country on vacation," Hall told them as he offered them a seat at the table.

"Uh, his presence isn't required," Bobby told him as he took a seat. Elliot took one also but one seat down from his, giving them both some space and to try and cover all four men.

Elliot was the first to talk, "We gathered you all here so we could do this all at once. We're here about Caleb Cunningham, and anything you have to tell us about his time here at St. Luke's. Who handles the disciplinary actions?"

"Any of us can, depending, but it all has to be approved first by the Headmaster," McCabe answered. "But I'm usually the one to handle such matters."

"Have you had to discipline Caleb Cunningham?"

McCabe leaned on the table as he told him, "He's been in several fights, but under the circumstances…"

"Circumstances?" Bobby asked, cutting McCabe off. "What circumstances?"

"That Caleb was the victim in all the fights. I'm not going to punish a boy who was being bullied. He had to stay after school, but he was never suspended."

Bobby took a glance over at Elliot who gave him the same look. Rubbing his head, he went back to writing in his binder.

"How about any complaints against him from other students, or teachers?"

"I never received any complaints, detective," McCabe answered.

"Neither have I," Hall also told him.

Sergeant shook his head.

"Where's the basketball court?" Bobby asked him, interrupting Elliot questioning.

"Our indoor basketball court below us. As for baseball and football, and all the other outdoor sports our school offers, we have to commute," Sergeant informed him.

"Where? Tompkins Square?"

"Actually, yes. At least for practice. Our games are decided by the home school."

"And your rival is Xavier High School, in Chelsea, right?" Bobby asked to get to his next question.

"That's right," Sergeant said with a nod.

"Caleb Cunningham lives in Chelsea…so why was he coming here?"

"We, like many private schools," Warner spoke up, "recruit and select students from all over the five boroughs and even from New Jersey and parts of upstate New York. We approached Caleb and he decided on his own to be a student here. He also had offers to Xavier, Regis, and a few other private Catholic schools."

"And the reason you approached him had everything to do with his athletic ability, correct?" he asked Warner.

"That, along with his academics," Warner sternly answered.

"Really? Because seeing how he was struggling to maintain a C average, I find that hard to believe." Bobby wanted to smile as they all looked at one another, trying to figure out the best way to answer that. Holding up his hand, he said, "I get it. You are just like any other high school with a lot riding on your athletic teams' success. You recruited Caleb based solely on his abilities as a basketball player. You made him all kinds of promises, and all you asked of him was to win games," he said with a nod of his head.

Warner, being the only one to truly answer that, said, "We offered him a spot here because of his abilities, yes. However, he was told that he also had to work hard at his studies."

"When you say that you promised him a spot here, you actually meant a spot on the team?"

Warner worked his jaw over before saying, "That was implied since he played-"

Holding up his hand again, he asked, "Did Coach Patterson agree with that arrangement? A _promised spot _on his team even though Caleb lacked the 2.5 GPA average to play on the team," Bobby asked and saw the men looked at one another again. Feeling frustrated, he turned to the new Head Coach, "Sergeant, did he?"

Sergeant looked at him and then around the table at the other men before answering, "No, he didn't agree to that. Patterson always believed in academics first. He didn't like it when students who didn't deserve a privilege, such as playing on a sports team, were given that privilege without working hard for it."

"We're going to need to see any letters Coach Patterson wrote to the Headmaster, as well as any complaints filed by him," Elliot said as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Who're you calling?" Warner asked.

Elliot looked over at him as he held the phone up to his ear, "I'm going to secure a warrant, just in case you decide to refuse, or get rid of evidence."

"Evidence of what?" Hall demanded.

"Of helping to crucify an innocent man because he was causing you, and the school, problems," Bobby clarified as he stared over at the fuming men. "I always wondered why after a week you fired him, and then his wife, before any charges were even filed."

"We didn't want any bad publicity," Warner argued.

"You wanted to get rid of your problem and you jumped on the first opportunity," Elliot shot back after he hung up the phone. "That's grounds for unlawful firing of an employee."

"Which means that Patterson, if found innocent of any wrong doing, will be granted compensation," Bobby told them with a hint of a smile on his face.

Turning to him, Elliot informed him, "Novak will be faxing the warrant to school."

Looking back at Warner and the others, Bobby said, "We'll need the originals, and a copy of each."

"In a manila folder," Elliot added for good measure, making Bobby smile wider.

* * *

><p><em><span>Special Victim's Unit<span>_

"That tracker working?" Bobby asked Fin as he entered the squad room.

Fin looked up from the laptop on his desk, telling him, "Like a homing pigeon."

Bobby blinked back at that reference before asking, "Where is he?"

"Skater-boy park, with those four other degenerate friends of his."

"That's their hangout after school," Bobby said as he wrote that down along with the address of the park. "For a kid that claimed he didn't like taking the subway or buses, he gets around a lot."

"And he got around when he was supposed to be in school, get this," Fin told him as he picked up a list he'd been keeping track of Caleb's whereabouts on. "He left the high school at 11:32 AM, took the subway into Brooklyn. Hung around Williamsburg for about two hours, and then headed toward Queens at 2:45 this afternoon. He turned around and headed back to the city at around 3:15, arriving at the park at 4:07 PM exactly."

"Where at in Queens?"

Fin shook his head, saying, "He never left the subway."

Bobby rubbed at his head as he thought about that. "Can I have a copy of that?"

"Here you go," Fin said as he handed him an already made copy. "I always CYA, and I remember how you like to have a hard copy of everything on a case."

Smiling, he took the sheet of paper and headed over to his desk as he studied the times and places, locations, that Caleb had went throughout the day. He sat down and turned on his laptop, the one he finally checked out of supply, before leaving the desk to get a soda from the machine out in the hallway.

When he returned, he heard Fin yell out for him. "I also got tons of video footage for you to watch."

Bobby took a sip of the coke as he picked up his binder as he walked by his desk, asking Fin, "Where?"

"A/V room, down the hall," Fin told him as he pointed down the hall. "Have fun! I know how you like to watch."

Bobby gave a wave over his shoulder with his injured hand as he headed down the hall to the A/V room.

A few hours later, he was rubbing at his dry itching eyes as he picked up another old VHS tape and shoved it into the player. The nightclub recorded all there footage from four cameras onto video cassette tapes…And not a single one had been labeled with a date or times, or what camera it came from.

Bobby massaged at his neck and cursed the dark view of the hallway that lead out to the front entrance and pushed 'stop' then 'eject' before pulling the tape out and tossing it onto the table with all the others. Grabbing another tape, he put it in and pressed 'rewind' since the tape was at the very end. He took a sip of the coffee he got to replace the soda and leaned back in the chair.

At hearing a tap on the door, he called out, "Come in!"

The door opened behind him and when he turned, he smiled in surprise at seeing Alex standing there. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself. You look exhausted."

Bobby got up and took a hold of a bag she had in her hands and then gave her a quick kiss. "I'm about to curse whoever made VHS's. I thought I would never have to deal with these things again once CD's came along. I was wrong."

"This is definitely brutal. I remember once it taking me an entire day to get through security footage of a motel. We were after a john who liked to beat up girls before, during, and after."

"Did you get him?"

"Of course," she told him with a smile as she sat down next to him and pulled out the egg rolls, cream cheese rangoons, and chopsticks from the other bag she held. "I thought you'd be hungry." She then pulled out a can of soda from her coat pocket. "And look, diet exists."

Bobby glared over at her but took the can along with a pair of chopsticks as he asked, "Have a good day?"

"Ha," she mockingly laughed. "We've come to the conclusion that we're spinning in circles with any connection to the murder of Gardner and the Patterson family."

"At least now you can focus fully on other possibilities," he told her as he heard the tape click to a stop. Picking up the remote, he pressed the play button. At seeing the date on the tape, he breathed out, "Finally."

Alex glanced at the screen and asked, "Halloween?"

"Long story, but…Caleb was introduced to his club by a guy named Isaac that may, or may not, be of consequence to this investigation."

"Sounds like my case. No one, or anyone, could be suspect at this point."

Bobby chuckled as he took a bite of the food. "Anyone who thinks we solve these type of cases in 48 hours is delusional."

"Or expects us to be all-knowing superheroes."

"I'll take being an all-knowing superhero right about now. Did you ask about the cat?"

Alex closed her eyes and groaned. "I forgot, sorry. What's the deal with the cat anyway?"

"A hunch I have," he told her as he fast-forward a little before pressing 'play' again.

"Is this a gay bar?" Alex asked as she leaned a little forward in the chair. "You went there last night?"

Bobby shrugged, saying, "I got hit on by the British bartender, Eli. He gave you a run for your money," he teased.

Alex laughed as she turned to him, "Did you flirt back?"

He nearly blushed, but barely contained it as he said, "I didn't have to. He made me as a cop the moment I sat down. He was real helpful though; said his brother was a cop so he had pity on me. He was, however, disappointed when he found out I was straight."

"Now that's funny."

Without taking his eyes off the screen, he asked, "How's that?"

"When I first met you, _I_ thought you were gay."

Bobby nearly choked on his food. He had to down it with the diet coke and then he turned to her and said, "No you didn't."

"Yes, I did," she seriously told him as she leaned back in the chair. "Bobby, I had never met a straight man who knew more about fashion, clothes, and shoes than I did." Bobby went to speak when Alex pointed to the screen, "We know him."

Bobby turned away from her and looked at the screen. It was a dark grainy image, but he couldn't help but immediately recognize the other guy, Isaac, who was with Caleb. "Uh…that's Zach," then the name registered in his head. "Zachary Isaac Patterson."

"That kid just doesn't know how to stop being a suspect."

"He lied. He told me that he didn't know who Caleb was, that he didn't hang around the high school. What's he doing hanging with him in a gay bar?"

Alex smiled over at him as she raised her hand, saying, "I know that one. Zach is gay. His partner is Rob Jenkins, his only alibi."

Bobby looked back over at Alex as he said, "We need to bring him in and get a warrant for Jenkins apartment."

"We?" Alex asking in confusion.

"I think we can officially make this a joint investigation. There's a lot more going on here than…" Shaking his head, he honestly answered in confusion, "I don't know what, but none of this is making any damn sense."

"For once, the great Detective Goren is at a loss of far-fetched yet likely theories."

Bobby leaned back in the chair and rubbed at his head and eyes. "Don't worry; I'm sure by the morning I'll have something. I need time to think."

Shoving his carton of Chinese food into his chest, Alex told him, "Eat first, then think."

Taking the carton from her, he picked up a rangoon off the table and devoured it as he did what he was told. Then after a moment, he said, "I thought Zach had a girlfriend?"

"Word play," Alex told him, repeating Logan's words to her, before she explained.

TBC…


	11. Thursday, February 17th, 2005 pt1

A/N: Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! I really like to know what my readers think. A part of this chapter is rated **M**.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Home of Judge Peter Blakemore<span>_

_Upper East Side, Manhattan_

Bobby leaned on the buzzer until he saw the lights from the third story come on. Stepping back, he looked up toward the window of the high-priced four-story brownstone and saw the curtain move back as the man looked down toward the stoop. Giving a wave, he smirked because he could imagine the irritated look on the Judge's face before he moved away from the window.

A few minutes later the light from inside the foyer clicked on before the door opened. Leaning on the doorframe, he said, "Evening, Judge, I'm not interrupting am I?"

Blakemore glared at him as knotted the robe around his waist. "I was asleep, detective. It's midnight, what'd you want?"

Holding up the folded sheets of paper, he said, "Your signature on a warrant." When the Judge went to shut the door, Bobby put his foot out to stop him. "You owe me."

"I don't owe you anything."

Bobby sighed as he stared at the Judge, he said, "Hey, okay. It's just that if it hadn't been for me, you could've been serving a life sentence right now instead of Sabatelli…You told me that if I ever needed anything…C'mon, Judge."

Blakemore, sighing in defeat, moved away to let him in. The moment he entered the foyer, the Judge took the warrant out of his hand as he started to read it while heading down the steps to the kitchen.

Bobby remembered the layout of the brownstone from when it had been a crime-scene three years ago. "I thought you would've moved."

"It's my wife's house; she didn't want to part with it."

Sitting down on a stool at the island in the middle of the kitchen, he looked around and couldn't help but see where he'd found the Judge's law clerk, Emily Trudeau, dead on the floor with a towel wrapped around her head. "I'm surprised she didn't divorce you after everything came out."

"So am I," Blakemore softly said, mostly to himself. "But over thirty years of marriage goes a long way."

Bobby glared over at the adulterous Judge as he tried to understand that reasoning. He couldn't. It wasn't a marriage based on thirty years of love and trust, but of lies and deceit.

"This is a little light on probable cause for the ADA's murder and knowledge of the sexual misconduct case concerning Guy Patterson," Blakemore told him as he leaned against the counter. "This Jenkins guy is a suspected accomplice in both?"

"He's the lover of our suspect, Patterson's son, Zach. An eyewitness placed two men, one white, the other black, coming and going from the crime-scene all weekend. The description matches Zach Patterson and Mr. Jenkins."

"And what are you expecting to find in his apartment?"

Bobby stared up at him in confusion as he said, "Uh, evidence…The murder weapon is still missing in the ADA's murder case. He could've taken it."

Blakemore shuffled through the four sheets of again and then reached over to open a drawer. Taking out a pen, he glanced over at him as he flipped to the last sheet. "I'm taking it that this makes us even?"

Watching as the Judge signed his name on the warrant, Bobby smiled slightly. "Yeah, I supposed it does, but, I uh, I hope that if I need a favor again in the future…"

Blakemore glared over at him as he handed the warrant back to him. "Why should I? Thanks to you I lost the appellate court."

Taking the warrant from the Judge, he put it into his binder and got up. "No, you lost it yourself the moment you became a plagiarist. Thank you, Judge, and have a good night," he told him as he showed himself out of the brownstone.

* * *

><p><em><span>Apartment of Rob Jenkins<span>_

_Foxhurst, Bronx_

Bobby took the steps three at a time as he hurried up the five flights. Elliot, along with two uniforms, were right behind him while Fin and two more uniforms were covering the ground just in case. The apartment that was Jenkins faced the front of the building and right under his window was the fire escape. Slowing to a stop in front of Jenkins door, he saw that there was light emitting from under the front door and through the peephole.

Elliot circled around him with his right on his gun before raising his left hand to pounded on the door. "Mr. Jenkins! Police! Open up!"

A door down the hall opened and an older man stuck his head out to see what was going on at midnight that would warrant the police. Bobby caught the old man's weary eyes and watched as he quickly shut the door before hearing the chained link lock slide into place.

"Jenkins!" Elliot called out again as he pounded. "Police!"

They heard someone approached the door from the other side and the glow from the peephole darkened as someone moved in front of it. Bobby heard the lock turn on the deadbolt and then the chain slide off and hit the door before it opened.

The man standing in the doorway wasn't Jenkins, but Zach. "What's this about?" he asked quietly, as if he was trying not to wake the neighbors. It was too late for that. When he spotted Elliot, a look of anger flared in his eyes as he spat, "What'd you want?"

Bobby put his foot against the front door in case Zach decided to close it. "Calm down, Zach," he softly spoke so not to set the kid off. "We need you and Rob to come in, clear some things up for us. Okay?"

Zach looked at him as he said, "Clear what up? I didn't do anything."

Giving a nod, he moved closer to getting inside the door. "We found some evidence and we need your help with it, but…we're going to have to place you both under arrest-"

At the mention of being arrested, Zach stiffened at he glared at him. "Arrest for what?"

"Zach, is everything okay?"

Bobby heard Jenkins ask as he appeared in the living room behind Zach. "Everything's fine," he answered as he looked back at Zach. Leaning in closer, he whispered to him, "You don't want to add resisting to the obstruction and lying to the police charges I already have against the both of you. You're looking at a felony." When Zach still looked angry and ready to snap, he told him, "I know where you were last Halloween, Zach."

What he saw then in Zach's eyes wasn't anger, but fear and defeat. He looked back over his shoulder and gave a nod. Before opening the door all the way. "I gotta get my stuff," he said as he left the door open when he moved through the living room and disappeared down the hall.

Bobby was right behind him as Elliot stayed in the living room. Getting to the bedroom, he watched as Zach sat heavily on the bed as he picked up his shoes and slipped them on. Standing, he grabbed his wallet and keys off the nightstand and then picked up his cell phone. "Ready?"

"My coat's in the other room," Zach numbly told him as he walked by him out into the hallway. "Do you have to handcuff me?"

"Yes, I do," Bobby answered.

Elliot was talking to Jenkins who he had handcuffed as well. Rob looked confused, having no idea what was going on, when they reentered the living room.

Zach looked over at Rob as he grabbed his coat off the recliner, saying, "He didn't do anything. He only lied to protect me."

Once Zach had his coat on, Bobby pulled out his handcuffs and placed Zach under arrest. He read him his Miranda Rights before handing him over to one of the uniforms. Elliot did the same with Rob and then once they were both out of the apartment Bobby pulled out his cell phone to call Alex, letting her know that both Zach and Rob were on their way to SVU.

Bobby started the search in the bedroom while Elliot took the living room. It didn't take long to search the small two-bedroom apartment. They found tools in the closet and under the kitchen sink, but no nail gun. However, he did find a couple bags of marijuana, rolling papers, and tablets of ecstasy in a small wooden box in the bedroom. He left the bedroom with the drugs in a couple of evidence bags and found Elliot searching through a box in the other bedroom.

"Found a porn stash," Elliot said, "but nothing that matches the kind found in Patterson's home."

Bobby gave a nod as he said, "Didn't think you would. They're gay, not pedophiles. I found weed and ecstasy in Jenkins room. Recreational party drugs. I'll have the weed compared to the joint Caleb gave me and see if it's the same composite. Who knows, if it's the same, then it might explain what Zach was doing with Caleb in the club that night. Introducing him to his seller."

Elliot followed him down the hallway as they took one last look over the apartment before leaving.

* * *

><p><em><span>Special Victim's Unit<span>_

As they let Zach sit in the interrogation room alone while he waited for a lawyer, Bobby leaned against the two-way mirror as he watched from the observation room. He honestly didn't think Zach had anything to do with Gardner's death, and he honestly didn't think he had anything to do with his father's situation either. However, he saw a lot of guilt in the son's eyes and in his demeanor as he slumped over the table and rested his bowed head into his arms. Rob was in the another interrogation room and Elliot was keeping an eye on him as he also waited for a lawyer.

He heard a commotion out into the hall and when he looked, Bobby saw the lawyer talking to Alex who let him into the interrogation room to speak to Zach. Turning the intercom off so not to infringe on their rights to speak in private, he turned to Alex as she walking in a smile at him. "He knows something, and he's feeling a lot of guilt."

"The lawyer is his dads'. They'll be arriving shortly," Alex tentatively told him.

Bobby sighed and gave a nod. If it wasn't bad enough, they were going to out the son to his father during the process on uncovering why he lied. "You and Logan going to talk to Jenkins?"

"Might as well, but I don't think he knows much of anything. He seemed genuinely at a loss to everything going on. Also, I got the medical records today which proves that Rob injured his shoulder three days before the ADA came up missing. There's no way he could've lifted a body."

Feeling a wave of fatigue hit him, Bobby closed his eyes and leaned against the glass as he gave a nod.

"Why am I being woken up at two in the morning?" ADA Casey Novak asked angrily as she entered in the observation room. Right behind her was Captain Cragen. "Who's he?"

"Zach Patterson," Bobby informed the both of them. "Guy Patterson's son."

"You arrested him?" Novak asked in a stern voice as she looked over at him.

Bobby gave a curt nod as he said, "For obstruction and lying to the police during the course of an investigation. He's looking at two counts…both a felony."

"I know what they are," Novak nearly snapped at him in irritation. "What evidence do you have to warrant an arrest? I also understand that you searched the apartment."

"Video footage from a nightclub showing Zach along with Caleb Cunningham, together, _after_ he told me that he never met the kid. It was on October 30th of last year." Taking out the warrant he had for his search, he handed it to her. "We searched Jenkins apartment and didn't find anything linking them to the murder, but we did find drugs in the apartment. I sent the marijuana to trace to be compared to a joint that Caleb had given me last night."

"The 30th, that was fifteen days after Caleb accused Zach's father of sexual misconduct," Elliot spoke from the doorway as he entered the room.

Bobby spotted the lawyer getting up from the table. He quickly left the observation room as the lawyer existed the interrogation room.

"He wants to talk, but only on one condition," the lawyer told him.

"What's that?" Elliot asked as he stepped up beside him and crossed his arms.

"That the charges of obstruction and lying to the police are dropped in exchange of his testimony against Caleb Cunningham in open court," the lawyer told them.

Bobby glanced to Elliot and then to ADA Novak who stood to his other side.

Novak, acting as any prosecutor for the State would, said, "We'll see what he has to say first, then we'll talk about a deal."

Not waiting to see what the lawyer said to that, Bobby pushed by both of the lawyers as he entered the interrogation room. Zach immediately straightened in the chair and slid his hands down into his lap. Taking the chair directly across from him, he sat down and waited until everyone else was in the room. Elliot stood as he leaned against the mirror while the lawyer sat back down next to Zach.

Looking up, he saw the door shut and figured Novak was watching from the observation room. Before ever leaving the department to pick up the two men, Bobby had set up a television and tape player in the interrogation room.

It was in the corner of the room and Zach looked over at it as he said, "You're going to play the tape."

Bobby held his eyes as he told him, "I won't have to if you talk to me."

Breathing out, Zach leaned back in the chair and stared at the table for a long moment. He looked worn down and on the brink of collapse as his red-rimmed eyes filled with tears. Clearing his throat, he didn't need any provocation to clear his conscious as he told him, "I wanted to help my dad. After the news broke and everything happened…" He had to take a breath as he struggled to remain calm. "I was so angry, I wanted to kill him. He ruined my family with his lies."

"So you confronted him," Bobby pressed as he already caught on with what Zach was going to tell him. He'd been puzzling over the tape the whole night, and everything he knew of Zach and his anger. Before Zach ever opened his mouth he had already known what had been eating away at the son's conscious.

Zach swallowed hard as he gave a nod to that. "The moment I saw him, I couldn't even speak. I walked right up to him and hit him. I told my parents that I'd been in a fight with a friend of mine, but that was a lie. I got into a fight with Caleb." Looking over at his lawyer, he continued, "He told me what he'd done."

"He confessed to you?" Elliot asked. "And you didn't say anything?"

"_You_ wouldn't have believed me," Zach snapped back at Elliot; the anger returning the young man's eyes as his jaw twitch. "You would have said that I was only lying to try and protect my dad! Caleb told me the same thing, that it would be my word against his and four other boys."

Bobby leaned forward on the table, snapping his fingers as he got Zach to look back at him and away from Elliot. "Right here, alright," he said as he pointed at himself. "We're the ones talking here, Zach." Looking back at Elliot, he didn't even have to speak for him to take that cue as meaning for him to leave the room.

Once Elliot was gone, Zach calmed as he leaned once again on the table and covered his head with his hands. "I did this to him."

"No, you didn't," he told the grieving son.

"I should've came forward instead of…" Zach shook out an unsteady breath as the tears spilled down his cheeks. "I was so desperate to help my dad that I would've done anything," he pleaded to him. "He told me he would confess and drop the charges if I helped him."

"Caleb said that?" he asked as he had to get Zach to say exactly who he was talking about.

He closed his eyes as he gave a nod. "Yes, Caleb."

"And what'd you do for him?"

"You have the tape. He wanted me to get him in contact with someone."

Bobby looked to the lawyer and then back at Zach and waited.

Zach sighed heavily before telling him, "I knew a guy at the nightclub who was a seller."

Bobby wanted to smile as he realized that Caleb had lied to him again. The older man he'd been talking to at the nightclub had been the man who sold him drugs. "Narcotics?"

Zach gave another nod. "But not just weed, but pills…Anything he wanted."

"We found the drugs in Rob's apartment, Zach. We're not here to hang you up on drug charges, but I'm going to need this guy's name."

Swallowing hard, he told him, "His name is Patrick. Patrick Marley." Then Zach said un-expectantly, "I don't care if you hang me up on drug charges. I'll go to drug court for it if I have to, and rehab."

Bobby watched him for a moment, letting him gather himself before asking his next question. "What'd you do after Caleb didn't hold up to his end of the deal?"

Zach shook his head, telling him, "There wasn't anything I could do." Then the tears really started to fall as his control collapsed. "He knew I was gay, and he threatened to tell my father…my mother…" he gasped out as he buried his face in his hands. "I can't live with my parents hating me. I couldn't," he said as his voice broke in anguish. "I tried to tell that detective," he said as the bitterness that clearly spoke of his hatred for Elliot replaced his sorrow. "If he would have listened!"

"If he would have looked deeper, he would have found out that Caleb was lying, like I had done. That's why you blame him for this happening and not the ADA."

Zach shook his head in his hands as he kept staring down at the table. "I had nothing against Gardner."

"Did you ever try to talk to Gardner?" Bobby asked as he had to clear him of one last speculation that he had. He had to know if Zach had been the one who had scheduled to meet with ADA Gardner that Wednesday afternoon.

Taking a deep breath, Zach looked up at him and shook his head. "I wanted to, but I never got the chance. I went to his office Wednesday, before court, but no one was there. Then I went to the courthouse, hoping to talk to him before the indictment hearing." He closed his eyes again as he rubbed at his tear-filled eyes. "He never showed."

"I think my client is done," the lawyer said, ending the interrogation. "Can we talk about a deal now?"

Bobby stared into Zach's eyes for a long moment before giving a nod. Getting up, he left the room as Novak entered.

The moment he turned the corner to the observation room he stopped. Looking into the room on his son was Guy Patterson. Bobby glanced to Alex who was looked over at him with a concerned look on her face. Everyone else in the room seemed to be holding their collective breaths as Patterson listened as ADA Novak cut a deal for Zach, dropping everything except for the pending drug charges.

Bobby knew that since it was Zach's first drug offence, and there hadn't been enough ounces to charge him with a felony, then more than likely the son would only get probation and counseling. He would go to rehab and be clean in a month. He would imagine that Jenkins would likely get the same deal and the charge of obstruction would be dropped for him as well.

Once Novak was out of the interrogation room, Patterson turned to him. He saw a lot of things in his dark brown eyes, but what he didn't see was anger. "Detective, I want to see my son."

Looking over to Captain Cragen, Bobby saw him give him a nod that it would be okay before escorting the dad to the door. He let Patterson into the interrogation room before shutting the door to give them some privacy.

Going back into the observation room, the intercom was turned off but Bobby didn't have to hear what was said as he watched Patterson sit down next to Zach and pull him into a tight hug. Swallowing hard, he turned away from the mirror and looked over at the other detectives in the room. Elliot patted him on the shoulder as he passed him on his way out.

"It's not your fault, Elliot," he quietly told him before he could leave.

Elliot sighed as he glanced back at him. "Doesn't make the guilt go away, does it? I'll see you in the morning."

"I'm going home too," Logan said as he left. "My head hurts."

Bobby chuckled as he glanced back into the other room and saw both Zach and his father deep in conversation. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed like a great weight had been lifted off of Zach's shoulders.

Alex sighed heavily as she said, "Well," and then gave him a smile. "This didn't solve our cases, but it's getting us somewhere. We can steer clear of the Patterson family now and focus on getting the mutt behind all of this."

Bobby gave a nod as he told her, "I think it could be the same mutt."

Alex looked confused as she asked, "Caleb?"

"He confessed to Zach, and he would want to make sure that the only person that could ruin everything for him, couldn't." Bobby rubbed at his head as he leaned against the glass. "Think about all the evidence we have, circumstantial, yeah, but…Who have we been chasing for the past few days? Who does it implicate in the murder? Zach."

Alex smiled slightly. Looking over, something at the door caught her attention. Bobby glanced over his shoulder and saw Rob standing there.

"Is everything okay with Zach," Rob tentatively asked as he stepped into the observation room as he looked toward the two-way mirror.

Bobby looked in on the two men in the room as he told him, "Yeah. He'll be moved, pending drug charges."

Rob gave a sad nod as he said, "Me too. I'm glad though; we've been talkin' about quittin'. Now with this…I'd rather get clean than go to prison." He had a sorrowful look on his face as he watched the father and his boyfriend. "Zach's been terrified about his family knowing. I never blamed him or tried to get him to come out to 'em. When my pops found out, he hit me, kicked me out on the street. My moms, she cried and started quoting the bible to me like she needed to cast out a demon or something. She still won't answer my phone calls," he said in a slightly shaky tone. "I was seventeen."

"You did good for yourself being on your own. You graduated high school, college."

Rob smiled a little but it never reached his eyes. "Yea, I guess."

Bobby gave a nod as he asked, "You love him," as he gestured into the next room. When Rob nodded, he told him, "Then stop talking to me and go meet his father."

Rob glanced over at him and took a deep breath. "Nothin' like meeting the dad in a police station," he said jokingly but he was also scared.

"C'mon," Bobby said as he left the room with Rob behind him. Tapping on the door to the interrogation room, he pushed it open. Zach looked toward him but then his eyes immediately went passed him and to Rob who was standing behind him. "Uh, Rob wants to see you."

Zach hesitated as he looked to his dad. Patterson smiled a little, saying, "Let him in."

Bobby moved aside and let Rob walk in. "I'll give you guys a few more minutes to talk."

"Okay, thanks," Rob said but he kept his eyes on Zach.

Patterson turned to his son and told him something before getting up. "Hang on, detective." As he passed by Rob, he held out his left hand for him to shake. Whatever it was, Rob was barely controlling tears of his own. Then he turned to him and said, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," Bobby said as Alex moved around him to step inside the room. He closed the door to the interrogation room once Alex was inside, leaving her alone with Zach and Rob.

Once they were alone in the hallway, Patterson told him, "Thank you. I know it's not over yet but…" he took a shaky breath as he searched for words.

Bobby felt the appreciation with that simple 'thank you', as well as uncomfortable as he shifted around. Before Patterson could continue, he softly said, "I'm just doing my job."

"Well, innocent people still go to prison by cops just doing their job. For once I have hope. I can't thank you enough for that. As for my son," Patterson said, "he was killing himself with guilt over all this, and now he can focus on being free of it." He suddenly got quiet before saying, "I think my wife might have a heart attack. She always wanted him to get married and settle down."

Bobby couldn't help but smile at that. "Who knows, maybe one day he still can. It just won't be with who you thought it would be."

Patterson chuckled before admitting, "I kind-of already knew. A parent always knows."

"I'm glad he has a parent like you. Some kids aren't so lucky," he said as he thought about his own father and how he could never earn that man's love or respect. "Where's your daughter?"

"Home, my mother's there." Patterson looked at his watch. "It's two already."

Bobby looked around and at not seeing any uniforms, said, "I'll go get someone that'll transfer the both of them to lockup for the night so they can get some sleep. Court will probably start around eight in the morning, but depending on the docket Zach might not be seen until after lunch…It usually goes alphabetically," he explained.

"Yeah, okay, thanks. I'll let him know to prepare for a potentially long day." Patterson thanked him one last time before opening the door.

"Oh, one more thing," Bobby said as he turned back. "I was told that you had a cat, but…when I was there I didn't see it."

Patterson gave a soft nod. "He died a few months ago. He'd gotten out, we found him in the backyard," he told him before he went back into the interrogation room, leaving him alone in the hall.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

The moment he unlocked his back door it had felt like his entire body gave into the exhaustion he'd been fighting for hours. He tossed his keys onto the table as he walked by it. Then his gun followed as he placed it along with his shield on the counter.

"Does Captain Cragen know you're carrying?"

Bobby pulled his coat off as he told her, "It's my personal weapon. I can carry it as long as it's concealed." He slung the coat over the couch and he was working on the buttons of his dress shirt as he walked down the hall to the bedroom.

Stopping at the dresser, he dug into his jeans and emptied his pockets as he glanced over at Alex. She was pulling off her hoodie, exposing her tank-top as she prepared for bed. He continued to watch as she undid her jeans and slid them off. At the sight of her standing there in just her tank-top and blue laced panties, he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning. Then she took off her tank-top and he forgot what he was doing.

Alex turned toward him and at seeing him staring rolled her eyes and shook her head, causing him to smirk. "Liking what you see?"

"Loving it," he said as he leaned against the dresser and took off his t-shirt and then tossed it at her.

She chuckled as she caught his shirt and then surprised him by reaching up to unclip her bra. His hand worked on getting his belt off as he watched as she slipped her bra off and then pulled his shirt on over her bare chest. As he pulled his belt off from around his waist, she stepped up to him, pushing up against him at the same time that he leaned down to kiss her.

Their kisses were light and lazy, all lips and tongue, and so sensual it was hard not to lose himself in the act. Alex grabbed the back of his neck, balling her hand in his hair, as she deepened the kiss. The way she slid her tongue over his, he had to reach down to readjust the tightening in his pants.

Once she let him come up for air, he asked, "I thought you were tired?"

"I am," she said in-between kisses. "But I want you more than sleep."

Groaning at that spoken want, his hand moved down to her thigh and squeezed gently as he lifted her leg to hook around the back of his. He felt her shiver as his hand caressed from her knee to her butt then back again. Moaning into his mouth, Alex rubbed against him and gasped as she felt how hard he was through his jeans.

"Bobby, please…" her voice shook as she said, "I want you."

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he turned her around and holstered her up onto of the dresser. Alex eyes were closed as his lips attacked her neck, then her collarbone as he pushed his shirt up. She leaned back as she ran her hands through his hair and over the back of his neck, pushing her chest out allowing him full access. Taking a breast into his hand, he massaged gently before he took a nipple into his wet mouth.

Bobby greedily sucked and licked at her nipples and breasts, making her squirm and groan as she encouraged him on. He couldn't hold back for long as her moans sounded so good; he was aching hard and to the point that it almost hurt. He kissed his way back up to her mouth, sucking hard on her bottom lip before giving it a light nip before pulling back. Staring down into her eyes, Alex swallowed hard at the intense look of hunger and lust that filled his dark eyes as he took her in from her legs up as Alex gripped his zipper and pulled it down.

Moving in-between her legs as his eyes roamed over her body, he smoothed his hand over her inner thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb that caused her muscles to quiver and face to heat. The teasing was frustrating for him that he knew she was on the brink. Her hands palmed as his shoulders as she kissed over his neck, then his chest, before pulling him down to kiss over his jaw and on up to his ear. Bobby groaned and nearly came as her tongue licked over his ear before sucking on the lope. Then, he had to bite back as gasp as she dragged her nails over his back.

It felt amazing, the mixture of the pleasure and pain that shook his body. She never drew blood but how he wished she did. He knew all her tells by now; when she wanted it slow and sweet, or when she want it fast and hard. From the way she kept dragging her nails over his back before digging in almost hard enough to break skin, he knew she wanted it rough, but he still loved to hear he beg for it. Whispering into her ear, he asked, "How'd you want it?"

Alex turned her head to his. She slammed her lips against his as she wrapped her legs tighter around his back. Breaking the kiss, she told him, "Fuck me, now."

Bobby didn't say anything, he couldn't, as he slid her panties off, repositioned himself, and kissed her deeply as he pushed inside. They both stilled and groaned at the pleasure. He didn't move for a moment, letting her adjust to him as he broke the kiss and buried his head into her neck.

He had to lean her back as he shifted his weight to thrust into her. Despite his exhaustion, he wanted to take his time, hitting all the right spots as he swirled his hips and rubbed against the bundle of nerves that sent a wave a electric pleasure down her back. Hearing her breathing become shaky and shallow, he closed his eyes and focused on the sensations. One her arms around his neck, her nails digging into his back, and her gasping moans and hitching screams.

His chest started shaking with the need to go faster as he fought to control his breathing, and his breath was hot and thick against her neck as his voice hitched and groaned with the pleasure he was feeling. Just when he didn't think his body could take anymore, and that he was slowly approaching orgasm, Bobby pounded up hard into her, rocking the dresser back into the wall as he felt his resolve break. He could no longer hold back as he gripped her hip hard as he sped up. He was fucking her so fast and hard that the pleasure was mixing with pain as he heard nothing but her screaming pleas and the dresser banging against the wall.

The next thing he clearly remembered after the deafening pleasure of their release was that he moved them from the dresser to the bed as they collapsed. He heard the beating of her heart under his ear and the breathing of her stomach up-and-down under his chest. Her hands running up and down his sensitive back, soothing over the red marks. A cold sweep of air brushed over his sweaty body, making him shiver.

Feeling like dead weight and too depleted to move, he heard the deep steady breathing take over the rapid pounding. Lifting his head, he saw that Alex was asleep. He chuckled softly as he got up to pull the fleece blanket she liked to wrap herself up in off the chair she kept it on. Covering her with it, he placed as light kiss on her forehead before going into the bathroom.

After he cleaned himself up, he went back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of boxers. He wanted desperately to join Alex in blissful sleep for a few hours, but something was urging him to check his apartment. He'd become nearly obsessed with checking the safety of it since Alex moved in. Once he had it on his mind to check it, it was hard to push the compulsion away.

Dragging his tired body down the hallway, he went through his routine check. Opening the door to his study, he walked in and went over to the window over the couch. Seeing that the locks were in place, he then checked the closet. Satisfied that everything was as he left it, he walked into the foyer. Opening the closet door, he took a quick once over before shutting it. When he turned to check the front door, he noticed the chain hanging loosely down against the door.

His back stiffened as he stared at the door and that was when he also noticed the deadbolt was unlocked as well. Nothing else appeared out of the ordinary but everything was wrong. The door should've been locked.

Hurrying into the kitchen, and grabbing his gun as he passed the counter, he checked his alarm and saw that it was turned off. Turning it back on, he looked more alertly around the kitchen. He didn't see anything missing or out of place until he looked at the counter where he'd placed his gun and shield.

He couldn't believe he missed it as he walked right by it earlier but he'd been tired and not really paying attention. Stepping up to the counter he felt his hand going to his home phone as he kept his eyes on the spot where his police scanner should have been but wasn't.

After two rings Logan answered, "It's almost four in the morning, Goren."

"My house was broken into."

Logan was quiet for a second before, saying, "Holy shit, have you called it in yet."

"I will but I need you to do me a favor and get out to Chelsea and sit on Caleb's apartment."

"You think it was him?"

Bobby gave a nod into the phone as he tapped his gun against his left leg, feeling the anger ignite in his gut he almost pulled the trigger. "That's a pretty good guess. And if he's been here that means not only was he following me but he knows that I'm a cop."

"All right, I'm up."

"I'll call you back." Hanging up, Bobby searched through his phone address book and found Fin's number.

Fin was quicker to his phone than Logan had been. "This better be good."

"Get to SVU and check the status of the tracker. I need to know where Caleb's been at for the past five to six hours."

"What's goin' on?" Fin asked sleepily.

"I think he was in my house. I've called it in and I got Logan on his way out to Chelsea to sit on the apartment."

"Shit, man," Fin said as he heard him rushing over the phone. "This is getting serious. I'm on my way."

"Thanks," Bobby told him before he hung up the phone as he headed through the house. He needed his cell phone to call Elliot. Finding it on the dresser, he flipped it open as he watched Alex sleeping peacefully on the bed. He was dreading waking her up.

Elliot grumbled into the phone, slurring his words as he said, "'ello?"

"Wake up, Elliot," he quietly said as he stepped out into the hallway. "My house was broken into."

"Yeah, right," he mumbled before he asked, "Shit, you're serious, aren't you?"

"I think it was Caleb. He took my police scanner."

"Fuck," Elliot groaned. "Is Alex okay?"

Bobby smiled at his concern as he told him, "She's asleep. I haven't woken her yet to tell her, but she'll know once the police show up and start dusting for prints everywhere."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay." Bobby flipped the cell phone shut as he stepped back into the bedroom and sighed.

Alex had just gotten to sleep; she'd been up all last night worried about him and now this. Feeling the guilt clenching his heart, he eased up to the side of the bed as he sat the phone down on the nightstand. Sitting down next to her, he reached out and caressed over her cheek. She didn't even stir.

Putting the gun down, he shook her slightly as he leaned down to whisper into her ear. "Alex, wake up." She mumbled something and tried to roll over. "Wake up, baby, c'mon," he said as he kissed over her ear.

"Once wasn't good enough for you," she tiredly mumbled and he nearly laughed at that if he didn't feel so angry.

"Alex, it's not that. You need to wake up…It's important."

Alex groaned into the pillow before trying to roll onto her back but he was in her way. "What's goin' on?"

Bobby waited until her eyes were open and she was looking more awake before telling her, "Someone was in here tonight. They stole my police scanner…I think it was Caleb."

She stared up at him for a long moment before sitting up quickly. "What? Did you call it in?"

"Not yet."

Alex looked around the room as she asked, "Is anything else missing? Have you checked?"

"I checked everywhere but in here and I briefly looked over the living room as I walked through it. So far the only thing I noticed was the scanner."

Alex suddenly jumped out of bed and ran naked out of the room. Bobby heard the water kick on in the bathroom as he got up and quickly pulled on a t-shirt and pair of jeans. Then he pulled out some clothes for Alex and took them into the bathroom for her.

"How'd he get in? The alarm?" Alex asked as he handed her the clothes.

"It was disabled," he called back as he went back to the bedroom and picked up his cell phone. "I don't know how he got in but I know how he got out. The chain and deadbolt on the front door were unlocked," he told her as he dialed a number.

Turning on the light to the walk-in closet, he headed to the standup safe in the back of it. The safe was closed but he went to open it as he heard the dispatcher pick up the phone.

"Central Dispatch."

"Yes, this is Detective Robert Goren, badge number 4376. I need uniforms and CSU at my home address…I've had a break-in," Bobby told the guy as he pushed the code in for the safe and opened it. At seeing both shotguns still there, he breathed a sigh of relief before shutting it. Checking the ammo on top of it, he noticed the box was missing as he flipped his cell shut. Leaving the bedroom, he called out to Alex as he passed the bathroom, "He took all the shotgun shells."

"Then let's hope he doesn't know anyone with a shotgun."

It took almost five minutes, enough time for him to check the rest of his apartment, before he heard sirens wailing in the distance. Going to the front door, he pulled it open to let them in. The next ten minutes seemed to go by in a blur as his apartment was filled with uniforms and a CSU team.

Besides the shotgun shells and the police scanner, Caleb had taken his old patrolman uniform hat, a picture of him and Alex, and his old leather jacket he kept in his closet. He also discovered that he'd gone through his personal files in his study and everything in the closet. He could've taken some magazines but he didn't know and didn't really care.

By the time Elliot showed up, he was pacing around the sidewalk smoking a cigarette as he resisted the urge to take over the scene. Elliot approached from behind a patrol car with a carrier full of coffees from the coffee shop a few blocks over. Alex, who'd been sitting on the stoop, jumped up and grabbed one as soon as he stopped walking.

Bobby took one as well and thanked Elliot as he took a sip. They didn't want to mess with anything, not even the coffee machine because they had no idea what had been touched.

"I called Captain Cragen," Elliot told him. "He's making all the brass notifications."

Bobby gave a nod. He would've done it himself but he didn't know his number. "Fin's on his way to SVU, if he's not there already." He took a big gulp of the coffee as he started to pace again. "He went through my personal files, all my bills, banking information, medical, social security number…" he said in a heated rant before taking a breath. "He knows everything," he said as he stuck the cigarette back into his mouth.

"Once the banks open, notify them first thing just in case. Do you do banking on-line?"

Bobby glanced over at Elliot in confusion before saying, "I can do that?"

Alex chuckled and shook her head. "Bobby just figured out email," she teased him as she told Elliot, "He doesn't, but I do. I have some bills here with my information on it as well. I'll do the notifications."

Elliot took Alex's appearance in and then asked with a smirk on his face, "In a rush to get showered and dressed?"

"Bite me," Alex calmly told him back.

Bobby was pacing again as he thought about how in the hell Caleb could have found out where he lived. His home address and phone number weren't listed in the phone book or on-line. Also, how did he get in? He had an alarm. Sure, it wasn't Fort Knox or the most advanced security system in the world, but he still didn't know how it never went off. Or if it did, why he wasn't notified by the security company. "He must know how to pick a lock…" Looking up, he saw Alex watching him. "Back in Alabama, he'd been arrested for trespassing...He could've learned."

Elliot went over to talk to a uniform officer, probably asking the same questions he was asking himself, when his cell vibrated in his jeans pocket. Taking it out, Bobby saw it was Fin. "What'd you got for me?"

"He's there."

Bobby stilled as he looked around the neighborhood and asked, "On the street?"

"From how accurate this tracker is, it says that he's in the house."

"Is he moving?"

A few seconds later, Fin told him, "No."

"Has the tracker moved since he first showed? What time was that?" Bobby asked as he went up the steps and into his living room as he started to look around.

Fin was quiet as he searched for the information. "He first showed at 11:44 PM."

Bobby then asked the room full of CSI's, "Has anyone found a Zippo lighter?"

"I did," a CSI said from the kitchen. He walked over to his evidence box and picked up a bag.

Bobby took the bag from him and saw the lighter that held the tracker. Sighing, he asked, "Where'd you find it?"

The CSI gave him a weird look as he said, "Under a pillow on the bed."

Bobby stared at the lighter as he thought of Caleb laying in his bed…The bed he and Alex were about to sleep in. Feeling his jaw twitch, he handed the evidence bag back to the tech as he asked Fin, "Did, uh…did you catch all that?"

"Yeah, we lost him. Damn. And we don't know how long he was there or when he left."

"I'm certain he stayed for at least an hour, uh, maybe more. He probably had the scanner going the whole time," Bobby said as he stepped outside and spotted Alex down on the sidewalk waiting for him. "We know now for certain it was him…That, uh…that gives us probable cause to search the apartment."

"I'll inform the Cap, he just walked in."

"All right," Bobby said before shutting his cell. Staring down at Alex who was now moving up the steps, he told her, "We're moving on Caleb's apartment tonight."

Bobby headed back into apartment with Alex behind him as he went to grab his keys and shield from the kitchen; his gun was already tucked into the back waistband of his jeans. He spotted Elliot coming through the back door and told him what was going on. Alex appeared next to him, having changed into a pair of jeans she was clipping her gun onto her belt.

Grabbing her coat off the back of the chair, she told him, "Let's go," as they headed out of the door and to her car.

"I'll follow," Elliot called out as he took off jogging to the SUV.

* * *

><p><em><span>Caleb Cunningham's Apartment<span>_

_Chelsea, Manhattan _

Bobby breathed out into the cold morning air as he and Elliot grabbed a bulletproof vest out from the back of the SUV. The morning dawn was breaking over the horizon, casting an orange glow over the buildings. Taking a glance of his shoulder, he saw Alex talking on her cell to Deakins as he pulled the vest on. Strapping the Velcro straps down, he tapped the hard breast plate twice over his heart without thinking before picking up a radio.

"You do that all the time?"

Hearing Elliot's voice snapped him out of his head as he looked over at him. "What?"

Elliot repeated what he did on his own vest. "Tap it."

Smiling, he gave a nod. "Ever since I was in the Army. I guess it became a ritual, you know, for luck."

"It works?"

Bobby shrugged as he told him, "I'm still alive."

Elliot chuckled as he picked up a radio and turned it on. "Caleb could be listening to all this traffic right now."

"As much as we try, we can't keep everything off the radio," Bobby said as he switched channels and frequencies. "Boy 2, right?" he asked, making sure he had the radio correct.

"Yeah," Elliot told him as he switched his to the same channel and frequency. "Is it on encrypted?"

Bobby checked, saying as he moved the tab around the dial, "It is now. Unless Caleb is changing the channels on the scanner, this should be off the net." Taking a shaky breath in the cold air, he felt his lungs start to ache. He really needed to stop smoking; it was starting to hurt. "What unit are we?"

"David 1-6-Victor. I already radioed us in as arriving on scene."

"Who's on this morning?"

Smiling, Elliot told him, "Mia."

"She the new girl with the Portuguese accent?"

"That's her," Elliot said as he continued to smile.

Bobby stared over at him, asking, "You've seen her?"

"Oh yeah. If my divorce was final, I would've asked her out."

"Asked who out," Logan asked as he approached them from behind.

"The new dispatcher with the accent," Elliot said as he clipped the radio onto his belt.

"_Mia_," Logan said with a smile of his own. "Her voice is nice but for the first week I had to ask her 10-9 about five times before I could understand what she was saying."

Bobby chuckled and shook his head. "You two can fantasize all you want, I've got the real thing. Excuse me," he said as he pushed through the two men and stepped over to the trees that lined the small dog park they were parked next to. "Dispatch, David one-six Victor," he spoke into the radio.

"Go, David…one-six…Victor," Mia said in a thick Portuguese accent.

He couldn't help but smile at it as he informed the dispatcher, "We're now on Boy-2, going Code 22."

"Ten-four," she said, copying his message.

Bobby turned and spotted Alex walking up to him, as he clipped his radio to his belt.

"Don't tell me you have a crush on Portuguese girl too?"

He laughed as he stepped up to her and leaned down, telling her, "Her accent may be cute, but you're beautiful."

Alex rolled her eyes but she was smiling. "Nice cover, Goren. So, it's a go. Prints came back from our apartment that matched Caleb's prints that were in the system from when he was arrested in Alabama. I've got the uniforms in place at every exit, and Miss Cunningham is missing."

"Missing?"

"She never showed up to work or called in. Her shift started at eleven last night," Alex told him with a hint of concern.

"We're going in, now," he told her as he moved off the sidewalk and up to Elliot and Logan who were talking by the SUV. "We're a go. I let dispatch know to keep our radio channel restricted, and Caleb's mother never went into work last night."

"You're thinking he did something to her?" Elliot asked.

"I'd bet on it," Logan said as he adjusted his bulletproof vest over his shoulders. "These things never fit me right. Not even my fitted one fits me right."

"That's your body telling you to lay off the vending machine," Alex shot at him as she grabbed the shotgun out of the case and racked it.

"Damn, Eames," Logan said as they started to cross the street. "Remind me never to piss you off."

Bobby looked over at Logan as he walked in-step with Alex as they headed toward the front entrance to the apartment. "Alex may be a hell of a shot with the pistol, but she loves the shotgun. We have two at home."

"You carrying?" Elliot softly asked him as he came up next to him.

Bobby gave him as quick glance as he said, "My personal."

Elliot patted him on the shoulder as he told him, "Don't worry, if you have to pull it we all got your back."

"Appreciate it," he told him as he pulled open the front door. "It's on the second floor, last door on the left."

Three uniforms were waiting just inside the door and Bobby recognized one of them as Officer Davon Fields. They'd been to the academy together and trained together on patrol. While he had gone the detective route, Fields loved working the streets. The last time he saw Fields, he was working Narcotics. "Fields, man, long time. How's it going?" he asked his old friend as he shook his hand.

"Good, brother. Got married and have a few rug-rats running around. You?"

Bobby pointed to Alex, saying, "The woman with the shotgun is my better half."

Fields looked Alex over with real appreciation as he introduced himself. "Davon Fields, it's a pleasure."

"Alex Eames."

After they all introduced themselves, Fields asked, "So, this kid's the one that broke into your house?"

"That's right. He took my scanner and all twelve shotgun shells. He could be armed and expecting us, and we were just informed that his mother never showed at work."

Fields picked up the battering ram that was leaning against the wall by the roll of mail boxes, saying, "Who needs SWAT. Alright, lets get it done."

Bobby followed Fields up the steps along with everyone else, including Fields' partner, Officer Weeks. Getting to the second floor, they headed down to the last door on the left. Fields positioned himself in front of the door as he round behind him to get to the right side. Elliot and Logan had their guns drawn to the ready as Alex stood back behind them with the shotgun.

"On three," Fields said before he swung the battering ram at the door. As the door splintered open, he shouted, "Three!"

The moment the door was busted on and he entered, Bobby could smell the blood in air. Resisting the urge to pull his weapon, he followed behind Alex as Mike and Elliot swept around the rooms.

"Clear!" Logan called out from the kitchen as Elliot went into the hallway.

Elliot yelled out clear from the bathroom but hesitated at the jarred door to the master bedroom. Looking back at him, Bobby gave a nod as his hand went to the small of his back as he took out his gun. Pushing the door open with his foot, Elliot slowly went in with him right behind him. Bobby heard the intake of breath right before his eyes took in the woman lying in a pool of her own blood. She never made it out of bed.

He went up to the bed as Elliot left the room. There was nowhere he could touch the dead woman without getting blood on his hands as he pulled her arm up to check for a pulse. Her throat was slashed along with her arms; she bled out before anything could've ever been done to save her. He heard a door breaking down the hall and then Alex yell out, "Clear!" Taking out the radio, he radioed it in, "Dispatch, uh, send an ambulance and ME to our twenty. Also, get a hold of CSU."

Logan appeared in the doorway. "He's on the run."

Bobby nodded as he added, "Our suspect is 17-Frank, issue APB." Dropping his arm, he looked around the bedroom as he backed out and as he felt the anger explode in his gut. "Son-of-a-bitch," he snapped as he left the room and pounded the bathroom door. Not only did Caleb have his scanner, but he was also one-step ahead of him. Fugitive now or not, he didn't think the kid would be found unless he wanted to be.

"Let's seal the scene," Elliot called out to Fields.

They all left the apartment, sealing it until the ME arrived to pronounce death of Caleb's mother. Bobby pushed the front entrance open and immediately pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

Fields did the same as he lit a smoke with a match. "I thought you quit."

Bobby just looked over him as he snapped the lighter shut. Sitting down on the curb, he took a glance around the morning neighborhood as people started coming out of their apartments to see why the police were there. Looking down at the street, he felt Alex's hand on his shoulder. She sat down next to him but neither one of them spoke as they waited. He had blood on his hand from having to check for a pulse. Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped his hand off as he heard sirens blaring in the distance.

"Was there anything in his pathology that indicated this type of rage toward his mother?"

Bobby looked over at Alex as he kept wiping his hand. Taking a drag off the smoke, he used the fingers on his right hand to pull it out. "I'm not sure. I never got to talk to her, or to talk to him about her. I wouldn't be surprised given his frustration with his own identity, to have blamed her. She couldn't said or did something to him, or maybe she didn't say or do anything…" he mumbled as the street started to fill-up with police cars. "Today they kill them over cars and videogames," he said dispassionately as he stuck the cigarette back into his mouth

Alex sighed heavily as she stared into his eyes. "Don't do that," she said as she went to touch his cheek.

Bobby pulled away slightly as he got up.

"It wasn't your fault."

He ignored her as he followed the SVU's ME up the walk and to the entrance.

They started searching the apartment for any evidence and any information on where he would go to hide. As he was searching through Caleb's closet, Bobby found a shoebox containing martial arts weapons. Pulling out a dart, he felt the tension in his body double. Under the weapons were cut up sheets. He took one out and unfolded it; it was target. "He's efficient at knife throwing."

Elliot looked over at him from where he was searching through the desk. "Those Chinese darts?"

"Yeah. The blades are dull, some tips are broken off. They're old, but, the last date on this target is for a week ago. He's got new ones, and tested them out on his mother while she slept." Bobby heard Elliot call over the radio that their suspect was armed and dangerous as he went back to searching the closet. He looked around the room and spotted a dart board hanging against the far wall. Walking over to it, he ran his fingers of the slash marks and indentations. "He practiced on here."

Elliot held up a couple of notebooks as he told him, "This kid has issues. He has tons of notebooks with drawings of people being killed, of him killing his mother, and page after page of angry rants. It's like a sociopaths journal."

Bobby took out a dart from the shoebox and held it up in his left hand by the blade. Aiming it at the board, he drew back and tossed it across the room at the board. It stuck to the board, but off his mark by more than a few inches.

"You suck," Elliot teased him.

He went over to the board and pulled the dart out, saying, "I was taught how to throw them while I was in China for nine months. I could never throw them straight; I've got a wild arm."

"This kid is sicker than we thought," Fields said as he entered the bedroom. "I found photos of a tied-up naked girl in his book bag."

Bobby dropped the dart back into the shoebox as he stepped over to Fields. Taking the evidence envelope from him, he pulled out the pictures and looked them over. It was what he would expect; bondage, S&M, and ultimate control.

"What's with you white boys being psychos anyway? You never see a brother running around like Ted Bundy."

"Actually-" Bobby went to say as he shuffled through the explicit, and disturbing photos.

Fields cut his off quickly, "Don't start, Goren. Let a man have his joke, alright? Let it drop. See," he said as he glanced over at Elliot who was laughing. "That's how you hav'ta do him. Just cut him off at the legs before he can even get a word in. I learned that our what? Second month in. It saved me from wanting to pound the shit out of you for knowing too damn much."

Bobby said matter-of-factly, "You can never know too much."

"Yes, you can, and you my friend, do," Fields said with a teasing smirk as he tapped on the photos. "I didn't need to know that."

Bobby glanced over at him as he reached over and took Fields pen out of his breast pocket.

"Hey, man," Fields gripped as he waited to get his pen back. "You're glad you're a cripple right now or I'd break your other hand."

Bobby added his name and badge number to the chain of custody on the envelope then clicked the pen shut as he handed it back to him. Looking over at Elliot, he told him, "I think I know what Caleb's got going with his school friends. He could be offering them sex for drugs."

"And why would he think that you wouldn't be interested?" Elliot asked as he took the envelope to look over the pictures.

"Because it involves a teenage girl…Caleb thought I was interested in teenage boys."

Fields was giving him a weird look before shaking his head. "This is exactly why I stuck with patrol. You go undercover with these sickos while I just arrest them. Or, if I'm lucky, get to take one off the street for good."

Bobby took the pictures back from Elliot as he nodded in understanding. Sometimes all the empathy and morality in the world couldn't stop him from wanting to take out his gun and shoot somebody. Trying to get his mind away from those dark thoughts, he told Elliot, "This could be his girlfriend. It's obvious that he's the one in control of her."

"I see how he's in control, he's got her blindfolded and mouth duct tapped," Elliot said with disgust and anger as he left the room. "You can't even see her face. How're we going to find her?"

"There's a birthmark on her thigh…" Bobby said as he followed Elliot into the living room. He took one last look around the apartment before handing the evidence they gathered off to the CSI's.

"You guys going Code 5," Fields asked as they walked out of the building.

"Not us," Bobby told him. "We got a couple other detectives on their way to take first watch in case Caleb shows up. None of us have been to bed yet."

Fields gave a nod as he said, "We're getting off now. Wanna meet up for breakfast?"

Bobby looked over at Alex and the others; they all shrugged. Alex smiled a little as she answered for him, "We'd love to."

"What the hell, we need to eat anyway," Bobby said as he took out his cell phone. "Give me your number and I'll give you a call."

Once the arrangements were made, and they were rid of their tactical gear, Bobby followed Alex to her car that was parked around the corner from the park.

TBC…


	12. Thursday, February 17th, 2005 pt2

_Smithy's Bar & Restaurant _

_TriBeCa, Manhattan_

"I can't believe you dragged me out to Tribeca," Logan said as he approached the table. He pulled a chair out and sat down. "This is all I need at eight in the morning, rich movie stars."

Bobby chuckled as he rubbed over his tired eyes. He had showered once they returned to the precinct and it had woken him up for the drive over to the restaurant without falling asleep despite the fact that Alex drove. That temporary second…third? wind was dying down fast. He heard a noise and looked toward the door in time to see Elliot walking in with Fin.

Alex turned and waved over at the SVU group as they approached the table. They had grabbed a table for six so there were enough chairs for everyone.

"Have ya'll ordered yet?" Fin asked as he spotted Fields and gave the patrol officer a huge smile. "Fields! How's it goin'?"

"Hanging in there. I haven't seen you since you and Goren were in Narco together."

"Been busy," Fin said as he sat beside Fields and leaned back in the chair as he looked over at him. "I put a copy of Caleb's activates on your desk, but I know that you're biting at the bit for the information so," he pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his jacket. "I made another copy for you to brood over."

Taking the paper, Bobby said, "Thanks," but didn't look at it yet as he put it into his jeans pocket. Stretching his arm out over the back of Alex's chair, he muffled a yawn with his left hand as the waitress approached. Looking over at Elliot, he asked, "Is Cragen expecting us in today?"

Elliot shook his head. "We've been up for over 24, he's giving us the day. He said we can work if we want, but desk only."

"Figured as much," Bobby said as he leaned his head back, feeling his eyes slide close.

It was department policy that after sixteen hours on shift they weren't allowed to be carrying a weapon, or put into a position to have to draw their weapon for liability purposes. It was hard enough to shoot accurately after eight hours of sleep, let alone being up for over 24 hours. That was why they were allowed to bunk-out for a few hours at work. And why on stakeouts they could take turns sleeping without getting into trouble. It all came down to not being a liability when it came time to pull your weapon. Patrols were the exceptions because they got to work their shift and then go home. Detectives had shifts too, but they were also required to work overtime and days off, be on-call and do stakeouts. The job was hardly ever-ending.

"I've got a story about Goren for you," Fields said as he looked over at Alex.

"Should I be hearing this?" she playfully asked as she nudged him in the side, making him chuckle.

"It's clean, I promise," Fields told her before diving into the story. "We weren't on the job for more than six months when I found out how smooth Goren was. He got a traffic lawyer to hang his own client. You know what I'm talking about?"

He sure did. Smiling a little, Bobby gave a nod as the waitress appeared with coffee cups for everyone at the table. As the cups were being filled with freshly brewed hot coffee, Fields continued.

"We had a traffic stop on this guy who had sped through two red lights in a Ferrari. Since Goren had been the one driving, he was contact, right? So I stayed back and let him handle the driver. I'll never forget the man's name, Terry Diamond, and he was some hotshot Wall Street banker."

"He'd bought the Ferrari the day before I pulled him over," Bobby told her as he picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip.

"And a hothead. Goren didn't even get as far as asking the guy for his registration before Diamond started going off. He was yelling at Goren like he was the one in the wrong. Through the entire traffic stop Diamond would not shut-up, saying how he was taking it to court and everything. He threw his license at Goren while cursing his family, accusing him of all kinds of shit-"

"You just let him do that to you?" Logan asked as he stared over at him. "I would've pulled him out of the car so fast."

Fields chuckled as he shook his head, "I know, right? I couldn't believe it. I was ready to jump in the car and knock the guy senseless, but Goren just took it. He pulled out his ticket book, nodding the entire time like he was agreeing with Diamond as he wrote out the tickets and then handed Diamond all three with a wide smirk on his face. Then I hear it…Diamond asked Goren, "What do the letters 'AH', stand for that's written on all the tickets?" Goren stared down at Diamond as he told him, "It's a reminder for me while we're in court that you're an asshole." Then, two months later we're in Traffic Court over this stop. Diamond claimed that Goren was the one being abusive and that he never ran those red lights."

Bobby started laughing as he remembered what happened next.

"The lawyer calls Goren to the stand, thinking he can nail him for the 'AH' notation on the tickets, right? So, the lawyer goes, "Officer Goren, is there any special notation written on the tickets that pertain to your thoughts regarding my client?" Goren says, "Yes, I wrote the letters 'AH' at the bottom of all of them." The lawyer, he's looking like he just won the case, right? He asks, "And what do the letters 'AH' stand for, Officer?" Goren then answers, "It stands for Aggressive and Hostile, sir." The lawyer then asks, "Aggressive and Hostile? Are you sure it doesn't stand for asshole?" And I swear to God Goren had the straightest look on his face when he said, "Well, sir, you know your client better than I do.""

Everyone at the table started laughing as Bobby said, "The lawyer walked right into."

"Hook, line, and sinker," Fields said as he shook his head. "I had never seen any other cop that smooth. He set it up _before_ it even went to court to nail that asshole."

"What happened to Diamond?" Alex asked.

"He had a terrible driving record so his license was suspended for two years," Bobby said, "but he decided to drive on a suspended. I was on the lookout for that Ferrari and the moment I saw it again before the two years was up, I lit his ass up. Towed that car to impound while Diamond spent the night in jail. We went back to court and the Judge revoked his license for ten."

"That guy had that Ferrari for ten years and couldn't even drive it," Logan said as he started laughing some more. "That's the funniest thing I heard all week."

Bobby chuckled as he turned to look at the waitress as she returned with their food orders.

"I got one for you," Logan told them as he grabbed his plate.

Bobby felt Alex shift closer to him as she leaned up to his ear and whispered, "I'll be back." He unwrapped his arm from around her shoulder as she scooted her chair back to get up from the table, leaving all the men alone.

"What happened?" Fin asked as he poured syrup over his entire plate of French toast and sausage.

"I broke the first rule you learn about being on the job," Logan said and everyone stared over at him.

"Oh, please don't tell me that you let the people in your building know that you're a cop," Elliot said as leaned on the table to reach the bottle of ketchup.

"It wasn't my fault," Logan said before taking a drink of his coffee. "I wasn't thinking. It was my first day on the job, I was an excited rookie who thought that since I passed the academy I knew what in the hell I was getting into. Instead of waiting until I got to the precinct to change into my uniform, I put it on at home."

Bobby took the salt and pepper away from Fin as he seasoned his fried eggs and hash-browns. "Then that's when you learned the most important lesson of having the badge, and wearing the uniform…People hate us. It doesn't matter who we are, we're all the same. I may not have been the cop who screwed some guy over, but I'm the cop he's going to try and kill the next time," he said as he put one of his fried eggs onto a piece of toast and folded it over to make a sandwich

"Tell me about it," Logan continued. "I didn't get more than two steps out the door when I saw this guy, who was just sitting in his car, reach down for something. Good thing I have good instincts or else I'd be dead."

"He was going for his piece?" Fin asked.

"A .38 Special that was under the seat. Luckily I acted as quickly as I did and his window was down. I was able to pull him out of the car and take him down before he got his hand on it. After that happened, everyone in my building knew I was a cop."

"And let me guess, every night and day you got a," Bobby pounded on the table as if knocking on a door. "Hey, officer! Officer, open up! Someone's stealing my cable!"

Fin started laughing. "How about, 'My cat got out! You gotta help me find it!'"

"My kid's an hour late getting home! How old's the kid? Fourteen!" Elliot exclaimed.

"Kid's at the park, lady," Fields finished off for him as they all laughed.

"You guys are a real riot, you know that?" Logan said as he shook his head, but he was chuckling too. "I didn't get any sleep until I moved out. I had to cut my lease short because I couldn't take it anymore. One guy woke me up at one in the morning because someone cut him off in traffic half an hour before. He copied the license plate and wanted me to track the driver down and give him a ticket."

Bobby shook his head as he could imagine that. "I got complained on once by a woman because I _didn't_ write her ticket."

"Been there, done that," Elliot said as he huffed out a laugh.

"She ran a stop sign. The one on, uh…Waverly Place, after it T's off-"

"I remember that corner back in the day," Fields told him as he cut him off. "It used to be considered a health hazard. Everyone ran that damn sign. The city finally got smart and put up two signs on both sides of the street to warn people."

"Exactly, that's why I gave her a warning," Bobby said. "Officer discretion exists for a reason. Next thing I know, I walk into the precinct and my Sergeant calls me over, tells me I got a complaint filed against me. It's still in my record along with all the other stupid complaints I've had filed against me. The best complaint though was because I stood too close to a woman's car, and smiled at her. She thought I was hitting on her and filed a sexual harassment charge."

"It's the life of a cop," Fields said after he took a drink of coffee. "You're damned if you do, damned if you don't."

"I think we can all drink to that," Elliot said as he raised his cup of coffee for a toast. "Think the women go through what we go through?" he asked as he looked over his shoulder.

Bobby glanced back and saw Alex walking back to the table from going to the restroom.

"The women go through enough shit as is…but, no," Logan said as she approached the table.

They all started in on eating their food and making small talk, joking around, and catching up. It was a light and easy breakfast conversation, nothing too serious to wind down the long hours of police work. Bobby finally relaxed as he kept quiet and just listened. He was never much of the small talker, joking kind-of guy. Alex was quicker than he would ever be with the sarcastic remarks and funny jokes, while he enjoyed just being there to hear her get the better of all the men at the table.

During a moment of pause in the conversation, Logan looked over at Alex, saying, "Hey, let me ask you something. We were talking about this earlier, but have you ever had a complaint filed against you for not writing a man a ticket or for standing too close to a man and smiling at him?"

Alex huffed out a laugh, saying, "No."

"See, it's all about gender," Bobby said, speaking up for the first time in nearly five minutes. As he picked up his cup of coffee to take a sip of his second refill, he said, "Women are more likely to complain against a male cop than a man is against a female cop."

"Hey! That's not fair," Alex said as she finishing off her last piece of toast.

"I know, that's my point. It's not fair. Society has put a double standard on everything pertaining to the, uh, the male/female relationship."

"Bullshit."

"You're calling bullshit on me?" Bobby asked as he turned in his chair to eye her.

Alex sighed as she took a drink of her orange juice, saying, "If this is you trying to say that women could get away with anything-"

"You could," Bobby said, cutting Alex off as he leaned on the table to look at her. "If it was based solely on perception, and how society views our relationship to one another, a woman could get away with _anything_." When he still got a skeptical look from her, he said, "Okay, answer me something. The moment you walk into a domestic, who's your immediate suspect?"

"Typically the man," she answered.

"Right, and yet, even as cops we know that some, if not half of the time it's the woman who's the abuser."

"And we joke about it," Fin added in. "Saying that the man must have really done something to piss his woman of so bad that she had to beat his ass for it."

"See," Bobby continued, "Double standards exist, especially in the justice system…and in the NYPD. Just ask any male/female partnership. I mean, yes, okay, me and Alex did get into a relationship, but that's beside the point," he said when everyone at the table gave him a funny look. "But we're the exception, alright. Just because a man and woman are paired up as partners doesn't mean they're sleeping together, or ever going to, or that they're even going to like each other. No one looks at two male partners and think they're secreting in a relationship."

"Are you sure, because sometimes Fin and Munch act like it," Elliot teased as Fin glared over at him.

Fields looked over at him as he asked, "How'd you two hookup anyway? You were partners, so was it like love at first sight?"

"Not even close," Alex said.

Bobby stared at him and said, "Are you kidding, when I first got to Major Case, Alex hated me. And she just told me last night she thought I was gay."

"It wasn't hate, more like I didn't want to be around you. Don't get me wrong," Alex said as she told Fields, "Even though I couldn't stand him, he was sort-of cute in a geek-ish way."

"Geek-ish?" Bobby said as he looked over at her.

"Geek-ish, _and_ gay," she snarked back. "Plus, I was dating Andrew at the time, and then it was Sean," Alex said before she finished off her glass of orange juice.

Bobby looked around the table and saw everyone trying not to laugh. "What? I like quality clothes and good wine."

"And opera," Fields added.

"So did Al Capone," Bobby shot back, "and many other Italians. You ever been to Italy? To Florence or Milan? Ever been inside La Scala opera house?"

"Alright, I get it. It's a cultural, heritage thing," Fields said with a playful smirk on his face.

"What did you think about me when we first met?" Alex asked, putting him on the spot.

Shrugging, Bobby told her, "I thought you were feisty for a little woman, but…you were my partner. I didn't think of you in any other way. And while you were with Adam-"

"Andrew."

"And Sean," he continued, ignoring the correction. "I was with my exes, Irene, Denise, and then there was Naomi…So it wasn't like I was really paying much attention. I didn't even think you would last a week as my partner so I wasn't really trying to be your friend, let alone trying to get in your pants."

"So…" Logan asked as he looked back-and-forth between the two of them. "If you two were never single, you wouldn't be together now?"

Bobby looked over at Alex who looked over at him. Shrugging, he said, "I don't know. Would you have dumped a guy for me?"

Alex narrowed her eyes as she thought about that. "How serious are me and this hypothetical guy?"

"Engaged, no, married," Logan called out from across the table.

Alex rolled her eyes at Logan but answered anyway, "Okay, if it had been anything less than engagement, I really don't know. But, okay, say I was still married when Bobby came along. There would be no way in hell I would have divorced Joe to be with him."

"And this is another reason why I love you, you're so brutally honest," Bobby said with a smirk on his face.

"Would you have wanted me to divorce my husband to be with you?"

"Of course not. If you were married when I came along, it wouldn't have mattered how much you grew on me, you would have been completely off limits. I don't fuck around with married women."

Alex said, "Okay then, hypothetical theory over." Looking back at Fields, she said, "Not everyone has to be soul-mates or love at first sight. You just have to find a person you can love, and love them. Me and Bobby are like that; our love was something that blossomed out of friendship."

"We…_blossomed_?"

Alex just sighed and shook her head as she continued, saying in a seriously teasing tone, "This geek-ish of a man suddenly became very sexy to me. He became a man I could love, and despite the fact that we were partners, _I_ took a chance with _him_. If I hadn't had ever told Bobby how I felt, I highly doubt he would have ever taken the risk to be with me."

"Huh," Fin said as he glanced back-and-forth between the two of them. "And here I thought you two considered each other soul-mates or something."

"Bobby doesn't believe in soul-mates. I do," Alex said with a shrug of her shoulders.

Bobby cleared his throat as he told him, "She believes you can have multiple soul-mates. People who come in and out of our lives that our souls need in order to keep on…um, uh…How'd you put that?"

Alex smiled a little as she took over his blundered explanation. "What I said _was_, that I think that our lives are way too long and complicated to have only one person on the face of this earth that our souls are connected to."

"Yeah, that."

"And that over the course of our lifetime, people come into them that our souls are looking for in order to either teach us something, or to simply be a friend, or that are there for when we need to love someone or to be loved. If I actually thought that Joe, and only Joe alone, was my soul-mate then I probably would have never tried to love anybody else as deeply as I loved him. But I did; I found this idiot," she said pointing to him. "And who's to say that if Bobby were to ever leave me, that some other idiot won't come along."

"You're doing wonders for my confidence," Bobby teased as he pulled out his money clip to pay for their breakfast. "I would never leave you to begin with; this relationship is completely in your hands, my dear."

She leaned into him, laying her hand on his chest. "I was only teasing about the idiot part. You're a very smart man when you're not being so stubborn."

"Um, hum, you're just saying that because you want in my pants," he teased as he put his money back in his pocket.

Bobby, despite his teasing, really loved the fact that she was so spiritual and open about it. Unlike him, she had a strong sense of faith. She even wore a cross necklace every so often. He wasn't a very spiritual man at all, and held little faith in anything outside of his own self. He would probably never tell her, but he envied that part of her. He would never think that it was wrong, or foolish, for anyone to have faith, but for him it was never an option. It was never something he could rely on.

If he were on a sinking ship, the last thing he would do would be to pray. Words prayed on high while drowning did nothing, let alone save a life. Anyone who chose prayer over doing what they could to save themselves or the life of others was a damn fool in his mind…

And people wondered why he was a lapsed Catholic. He didn't believe in fate. He couldn't. It was too unpredictable. To much out of his control.

He had to believe that he could change things. He had to believe that he had some form of control over his life in such an uncontrollable world. He had to believe in free will over the will of a God that demonstrated anything but mercy and forgiveness. To him, things didn't happen for a reason. Things just happened, and it was up to him to fight and claw and kick and scream and survive. It was up to him to continue living or to give up and die. God had nothing to do with it.

God could have very well created him, but God sure as hell didn't control his life or dictate what he could and would do for his own self. God could go off and leave him alone for all he cared.

He'd been asked before by Alex about what he thought of God. He told her to go read the book of Job. When she gave him a funny look, he told her that he couldn't trust in a God who would so easily get into a game of 'who's better' with the Devil. He couldn't trust in a God who played with a person's life, killed off his entire family, just to prove a point.

If he were Job, he would've told God to go fuck himself. Eternal damnation he could handle, he was already there. But he would never bow down and accept the complete destruction and death of his family and life all because God "rewarded" him with another. It wasn't a reward, but an unacceptable apology. That would be like a man killing off his entire family, and being okay with it, because he could always have another.

Bobby blinked back at the table and shook his head. He must have been exhausted to let his mind drift off to those dark thoughts…all because Alex was so much better than him. And he envied her for it. _Envy_…another deadly sin he was guilty of.

"Okay," Elliot suddenly said, "How in the hell did a conversation about double standards get us to talking about love and feelings?"

"Fields," they all said in unison.

"Sure, blame me. I was just asking a question since Goren brought up him and Alex getting together. It was his fault."

Bobby smiled slightly as he felt Alex wrap her arm around his waist. "Do you want to get back to talking about how our judicial system is messed up? Because we deal with that everyday on the job between court, murderers, domestics, rapes-"

"Yeah," Fin said getting serious again. "Like that case we had a few years ago, the male stripper who was raped by a group of women. Remember that, Stabler?"

Elliot took a quick glance at him before answering, "I remember. And I get what Bobby's been saying. I ridiculed that guy."

Staring over at Elliot, Bobby sternly asked, "You ridiculed him?"

"Hey, I realized my mistake. I know now that it was wrong. Yes, I thought that a man couldn't be raped by a woman. We're men, we're supposed to be the stronger sex. I thought that if she had sex with him it wasn't rape but consent because being a man, he obviously wanted it."

"Being violated is being violated, no matter who does it to who," Bobby stressed angrily as the good-natured feeling went away as he glared hard at Elliot.

"Another well proven point," Alex quickly tried to interject as he felt her hand grip his arm.

Ignoring her, Bobby felt the anger intensify as his hand clenched. "Do you feel that way about all rape against men? You know, with working with SVU one would think you'll be more open-minded and sensitive-"

"You're calling me single-minded?" Elliot angrily called back. "Insensitive?"

"Guys, calm down," Fields demanded as the other customers in the restaurant started looking their way.

"Yeah, cool it!" Fin said as he took hold of Elliot's shoulder to pull him back. "I wasn't trying to start a fight."

"No," Bobby snapped back. "I want to know what he's actually thinking. I want to know what he actually thinks about a man being raped by another man."

Elliot glared right back at him but he managed to cross his arms instead of hitting him as he said, "Bobby, just drop it, okay. Let's not do this right now."

"You're my friend. I let you live with me when your wife left you…and you won't answer my question? It really doesn't surprise me, you know, that men report rape and sexual harassment far less than women. Because it's single-minded cops like you that encourage the stigma of male victims. We're never believed, and when we do report it, we get laughed at, _ridiculed_, we're told we must've wanted it, that we're gay because of it, or we're asked why we couldn't stop it, that we're weak. As if we had any control over what was being done to us. Yeah, we're seen as the stronger, more sexualized of the sexes. As the ones who are the most likely to commit a sexual crime, but never as the victims of one, especially when we're grown men. And then the women in our lives wonder why we don't talk about things, or why we don't know how to handle it properly…" Bobby felt Alex's hand on his thigh and that was when he realized he had said that last part out loud; he wished he hadn't. Gripping her hand, he moved it off his leg as he quickly stood from the table, pushing it hard toward Elliot as he did so. "Fuck you, Elliot."

"Bobby, wait," Elliot called after him but he was already halfway across the floor.

Pushing open the front door, he walked out into the cold air and kept going. He faintly heard Alex's voice calling after him but didn't stop. Approaching the corner, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit his last one as he heard someone coming up behind him.

"Bobby-"

"Not now," he told Alex as he waited to cross the street.

"Yes, now. We were all fine, you were fine and then you snapped. We need to talk before you do something you'll regret. Bobby, look, I know-"

Bobby turned and faced her as he asked in anger, "You know? _Really_? Then tell me, what do you think you could _possibly_ know?"

At seeing her back up, and the flicker of fear that crossed her face, he realized that he had gotten into her personal space and was scaring her. Sighing heavily as he tried to calm down, he took a glance around the street corner. Everyone was staring at him and looking to Alex like he was about to attack her or something. Sticking the cigarette back in his mouth, he shook his head and started across the street as the light changed.

"Bobby-"

Whatever she had to say, it was cut off as he said, "I don't want to talk about it, Eames." Bobby knew that using her last name would tell her exactly what he felt and what he wanted. Distance. A lot of distance. Now was not the time to try and get him to open up.

"Then at least tell me where you're going," she demanded.

"I don't know," Bobby told her as he kept walking. Getting to the other corner, he headed toward the entrance to the subway. Turning around, he saw her standing behind him, having followed. "What're you going to do?"

Shrugging, she told him, "Until the apartment is cleared and we get the locks changed, I was thinking of visiting my sister. I haven't seen Nate in a few weeks."

"I won't…" he rubbed at his numb face and closed his eyes. He was feeling desperate for a drink again. And after everything that happened, sleep and a glass of scotch, or a beer, were all he could think about. He told her that he would talk to her first, but he didn't know how to talk to her about what he was thinking. "I won't drink if you don't want me to," he finally told her. "I know I shouldn't, but…I can't help what I'm thinking or, uh…what I'm wanting. It's," Bobby sighed in frustration as he tried to reason it out but he was so angry and confused. "I might go to Lewis's…I don't know."

"You can always go with me to Liz's," she told him.

Bobby sighed heavily as he looked around the street. With the way he was feeling, that was the last place he wanted to be. "I can't…I'm not sure if I can be around your family now, Alex. You deserve your alone time with them."

Alex looked a little upset, but she nodded anyway. "I understand. Go, talk to Lewis, have a drink and sleep there if that's what you really want to do."

Bobby knew she wasn't too happy, but he was glad she wasn't trying to make him do something he didn't want to do. "This isn't some ultimatum or test, is it?"

Alex shook her head at him as she said, "I'd never do that to you. I told you what I felt about you drinking. Bobby, even with that little explosion back there, you at least got it out. It's a step. Not exactly the best way to have done it, but," she shrugged, "you've never been the one to do things by the book."

"Okay, uh…yeah," he said a little in confusion. It had to be the exhaustion. "I'll call you later, okay, when I get up." Leaning down, Bobby gave her a quick kiss telling her, "I love you."

"Love you too," Alex told him before he turned around and went down into the subway.

* * *

><p><em><span>Liz and Terry's House<span>_

_Shore Acres, Staten Island_

Alex pulled up into the driveway of the modest one story home her sister and brother-in-law lived and cut the engine. Looking out at the brick home, and seeing the toys littering the snow patched yard, she smiled. It had felt like a month since she last saw her nephew who felt more like a son to her than her sister's child. She couldn't help but think, as she got out and walked up the sidewalk, that all this could have been hers. If her life had been differently, worked out differently. If Joe had still been alive, or if she had put a family before her career, or if she had been with someone else other than Bobby.

Picking up an overturned Tonka truck, she ran her fingers over the crayon written scribbles of half letters and swirls on the bottom. The blue truck was one that she had gotten him for Christmas. It had come in a set of four and as she looked around the yard, she saw two others but not the fourth. Keeping the truck in hand, she rang the bell and then knocked.

By the time the door opened, she was nearly on the verge of tears as the stress of the day and all the days before finally caught up with her. Liz didn't say anything as she wrapped her arms around her and held her for a long moment on the doorstep. When she felt little arms wrap around her and the squeal of Nate's voice in excitement, she let go of her sister as she picked up the little boy. He wrapped his arms tightly around her neck as she finally stepped into the warm house and out of the cold. Following Liz through the living room and into the kitchen, she held Nate and the truck as tightly as he held her.

"D-ow!" Nate pointed as he squirmed in her arms once she was sitting at the table. Giving him a kiss first, she let him down and handed him his truck as he started to roll it over the tile floor. "Zoom! Zoom!"

"Zoom?"

Liz laughed as she made her a cup of tea. "That's his new word. Everything is a zoom that goes zoom."

Alex smiled as she watched his energetic little boy roll around the floor with the truck before he suddenly got up and bolted for the refrigerator.

"Nak! Nak! Ma!"

Liz went over to him and opened the refrigerator. She took out a small tube of kids yogurt, opened it and then gave it to him, saying, "That's the last one, you little monster."

Nate gave no indication of hearing her as he focused solely on eating his snack.

Chuckling, Alex asked, "How are you holding up?"

Liz sighed as she shook her head. "I'm barely sleeping and Nate is starting to refuse naps. He hasn't stopped since he woke at six this morning."

She knew what that exhaustion felt like and couldn't imagine having to deal with it along with trying to be a mother. For her, the moment she got home she could unwind and relax, have a glass of wine and read a book or watch a movie, and sleep when she wanted. For Liz, the moment she got home she had a tornado of a son to have to take care of. "What time do you go in?"

"Five. Angie's coming this afternoon to pick this monster up. Terry's been having to work late just about every day for the past two weeks. If my hours don't change soon, I'm going to collapse," Liz said as she sat the cup of tea in front of her before taking the seat across from her. Giving her a curious look, she took a sip of her tea and then asked, "Okay, Alex, spill. Why are you showing up at ten in the morning crying on my doorstep on a workday?"

Alex took a sip of the cinnamon tea and hummed in pleasure. Taking a moment to think about it, she said, "Stress and lack of sleep. It finally caught up with me and I had a moment. I'm fine, really."

"Why haven't you been sleeping?" Liz asked in total confusion. "Did you drive all the way here?"

Sighing, he rubbed at her head as she vaguely said, "Work, and I took the ferry over."

"You're so holding back on me right now," Liz said with a teasing yet sad look.

She really wanted to talk to Liz about everything, besides seeing Nathan it was one of reasons she decided to stay there for the day. The fact that she was dead tired and ready to crash for twelve hours is what held her back. If she started to spill now, it would be a waterfall of emotion and tears and she didn't want to deal with it all right then. "Tell you what," she said as she took one last sip from the tea, "let me get a few hours of sleep first and you can call Angie and tell her I'll watch Nate today. I'm off anyway, and going to be here for a few days."

At that, Liz gave her a concerned look as she asked, "Why? What's going on? Is it Bobby?"

"After I sleep," she said as she got up and headed for the guest room that she occupied whenever she stayed. "I'll set the alarm for three-thirty," she called over her shoulder as she left the room.

Nate followed her as he tried to get the last of the yogurt out of the plastic tube and off his cheeks.

Alex took him into the bathroom and cleaned him up as she asked if he wanted to watch a movie with her. He gave a her an overly dramatic head nod in return before laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. "Liz! Nate's going to watch a movie with me."

"Good, hopefully he'll fall asleep," she called from the other room.

"Hopefully," she agreed as she took him into the room and sat him on the bed. She selected Nate's new favorite, _Thomas and Friends_, about the little tank engine that could, and put it in the DVD player.

As Nate's eyes lit up at the trains and he bounced on the bed clapping his hands, she went to her car to grab her overnight bag. She had no pajamas in the bag so she had to borrow something from Liz until she could return back to the apartment.

Half an hour later, she felt at peace for the first time in days as she snuggled under the covers with Nate asleep against her chest. She had yet to surrender to her exhaustion as she stared at down at her nephew and felt the rise and fall of his breathing. The boy next to her was the closet she would ever get to having a child of her own, and it filled her with so much love that Liz and Terry had asked her to be Nate's guardian in case anything would ever happen to them. Granted, she never wanted to think about that ever happening, and the thought of it made her tremble. Liz and her were so close, having only been a year and five months apart in age. She was the youngest, but there were times when she felt like the older sister, especially the day when Liz had come to her asking her the greatest, and most self-sacrificing question a person could be asked.

Liz and Terry had been trying for years to have a child. They had been close once. Five years ago Liz had gotten pregnant. She remembered feeling both ecstatic and sorrowful at the news. She was excited for her sister, but it was also right after Joe's death and it had hit her hard that they would never be parents. That she would never have a child with the man she loved more than anything and had given her life to.

Three months into the pregnancy and disaster struck. Liz had called her early in the morning crying. She was in so much pain and needed to get to a hospital. Terry had been out of the state at the time for a conference, so she had rushed to her sister's aid. By the time they got to the hospital it had been too late. Liz suffered a miscarriage. It had hurt everyone in the family, but it had nearly destroyed Liz and Terry.

That incident had effects on Liz's body and it was soon discovered that she couldn't bear children. That no matter what, even if she got pregnant again, it would most likely result in another miscarriage. At first, Liz and Terry were set on giving up, on not being parents, but they both couldn't do it. They both desperately wanted to have a child.

Alex remembered a private talk she and Terry had months before they came to her, asking for her help. It had been after a family gathering at Angie's house on Long Island. They were sitting in the backyard, just the two of them laughing and talking while getting drunk on Irish whiskey and Guinness. The whiskey was Terry's doing, but she and Bobby both had taken two weeks off from work so she had accepted the bottle when he passed it to her. It had been right after the whole Nicole Wallace/Dan Croyden debacle, and she was determined to get as far away from it as possible.

So, there she had been, alone with her drunken brother-in-law in the backyard of Angie's house drinking her weekend away until it was time to deal with the fallout. Until it was time to deal with Bobby's emotional rollercoaster once again. At that time in their partnership, and friendship, she hadn't been in love with Bobby. In fact, she was actually seeing another man, Sean Ashton who was a real-estate developer. It turned out that he was in the middle of a divorce but was also trying to work things out with his wife while seeing her at the same time. She didn't find that out until a few months later.

Bobby was also seeing a woman, but it, of course, hadn't been anything serious. A woman that Bobby had mentioned earlier that day named Naomi. If she remembered right from her talks with Bobby during stakeouts, Naomi worked as a bartender at the bar he frequented; she'd also been going to Culinary school to be a chef. During the two weeks she had been spending with her family, Bobby had taken a vacation with Naomi to her home in Jamaica.

She also remembered teasing him about having a weakness for foreign women, while at the same time thinking that it was another reason why she could never be with him. She didn't speak another language, and the only culture she knew was American and Irish. She had thought she was too bland and typical for Bobby's taste. When she had asked him once what his type was, he said he liked variety. Then when she asked what that meant, he looked at her and said with a smirk, "One of the reasons why I love New York City, all the different types of, uh…_culture_."

And when he said _culture_, she knew he meant _women_. Women of different religions, cultures, race and heritage. Bobby had been in the Army; he had been all around the world and back, and he had become fond of, and very much attracted to, foreign women. It had reminded her of the time in the interrogation room when he had revealed that he'd been trying to get with a Turkish woman who was Muslim by reading the Qur'an. That was also one of the reasons why Nicole Wallace had been able to charm him at first, and why he had been drawn to her. The Australian bitch…

Shaking her head at its sudden detour, she felt Nate roll in her arms and snuggle his head into her chest as he slept. Running her fingers through his soft darkening blond hair, she refocused her thoughts on her nephew, and on Terry's breakdown in the backyard over the thought of not being a father. She had never seen Terry cry before. It was as startling as it had been when she witnessed her father cry for the first time when her mom suffered her stroke.

Terry had held it together all that time for Liz, saying how he had to be strong for her while she fell apart. He couldn't fall apart, absolutely refused to until that night. Alex felt nearly paralyzed in what to do as he let it all out, confessed everything to her. All his pain and guilt, his anger and hate. He told her that it had damaged his faith, that he didn't understand why God would do that to them, to Liz because she would have made a wonderful mother.

Her tears were hot and uncontrollable while she could do nothing but listen to Terry's collapse. Then she felt herself moving as she finally found the will to move. She had pulled him into a hug and just held him as he continued to cry. In that moment she remembered thinking that she would do anything to ease their pain. She wanted nothing more than to help them, to save and protect them from anymore grief that would follow if they tried for another child. She had prayed for them, and herself, to get through it all as she wept right along with him.

So, when the moment came months later, when they had invited her to their house for dinner and then sat her down to ask if she would be a surrogate, she had immediately said yes. There had been no hesitation, no second guessing, and absolutely no regard to her own self as she was willing to give them the greatest gift of all. There wasn't a single day that she regretted that decision. Not even the day when it had fully hit her, after giving birth to her nephew, that the baby wouldn't be hers to take home.

Feeling the tears threaten to fall all over again at the memory and rush of feelings she had following the birth, she held Nathan closer to her as she shut her eyes and kissed his head. She may not be his mom, but she was going to be the best Aunt the kid ever had in his life. And no matter what, she would love him as if he was her own.

That was the last thought she had, and it made her smile, before she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

He couldn't sleep. He had gone to Lewis's in the hope of being able to crash on his couch for a few hours. It was impossible. Every time he closed his eyes he would jerk back awake in a desperate gasp for air. The fatigue was lowering his control, his defenses, and he wasn't able to focus. He'd been managing to keep his anger at bay for the most part by focusing on work. His loss of temper at Elliot had barely been restrained and he was shocked that he had been able to keep himself from hitting the man.

He felt like hitting him, but didn't.

It was an improvement, he figured, but not by much. Last week, or maybe even a few days ago, he would've lost it on Elliot. He was able to curb his anger long enough to just get up and walk away instead of doing something he would've regretted. However, he was nowhere close to being over it. He was nowhere close to being, and feeling, back to normal.

One of those reasons was because he could not sleep. Then because he couldn't sleep, he had felt restless. In his restless state, he had left Lewis's and took the train home. That was why he was walking through his apartment taking in the evidence of its recent search. Fingerprint powder was still over his surfaces, counters, doorknobs, handles, tables…

Sighing, he rubbed at his head as he stopped in the middle of the living room. Alex's bird was chirping and he made sure it had enough water and food before venturing into his bedroom. He stopped and stood in the doorway, staring at his bed as he felt the anger boil up in his tightening hands.

He didn't mind much. There were some things he could handle, others he couldn't. When Alex had first moved in, yes, he had felt like he was being suffocated in a way. He had never lived with anyone intimately in a place that was strictly, and solely, _his_.

Elliot had moved in, but he hadn't really _lived_ there. Elliot never slept in his bed, he barely used his shower as he preferred to do it at the precinct. And then for a while towards the end of his stay, Elliot barely showed up there at all. So, in his mind, that didn't count. According to him, he had never shared or given a part of his space, his safe haven, his sanctuary, to or with anyone.

He always followed a strict rule with allowing women in his home. If they were together less than a month, he never brought her to his place. Never. Not even for dinner. He would either take her out or make dinner at her place, and they would always go back to her apartment or house after a date as well. Then, if the relationship lasted longer than a month, he would gradually open up his door for her to come in. If they lasted three months, then he would give her a key, but he also had a rule that if he wasn't home then she wasn't allowed in. The key was for emergency reasons only, or if he was asleep when she got off work and he had already invited her over.

He preferred it that way and all his girlfriends seemed to be okay with that. They all at least tried to understand his need for security, and his need to control who entered and who didn't and when.

Working his jaw, he breathed in the air that smell tainted. It would have been different if he would have given permission for Caleb to enter his home. Instead, he felt violated all over again. He couldn't stand it. This was the apartment he had to live in. This was the only place he could call a home. _His_ _home_.

He had never really had a home when he was a child, or as a teenager, or a young adult. No place he could go to that was safe and secure and clean and _his_. This had been _his_. In this apartment was everything that had any meaning in his life. Everything that made him and kept him. Everything he could have in his life in place of what he could never have. He valued his things, his space, his privacy as much as a man with a family valued his wife and children.

He couldn't stand the thought of Caleb in his home any longer. He couldn't stand the thought of him walking over his floor, touching his things, trying on his clothes, looking at his pictures and books, his awards and files…Lying in his bed. The bed where he and Alex sleep, made love, and had their most intimate talks and moments.

Staring at his bed, to the pillow where the lighter had been found under, he could see in his mind Caleb there. He could see him staring up at his ceiling, or maybe doing something more lewd and vile…

Corrupting and tainting _his_ sheets…

He lost it. His anger exploded as he stepped into the room and tore his sheets to pieces.

By the time he was done, he was on the floor, head cradled in his head as blood seeped from his busted stitches. His head buzzed, his ears rung, and his hands were trembling as he tried to catch his breath. The pain that had been radiating in his gut had sedated but the pain in his head was just beginning.

Feeling his eyelids grow heavy, his head light, he slipped into unconsciousness.

_Tagman was sitting in front of him, in that diner, as his lonely blue eyes barely made contact with him. In a near sleepily calm state, he told him, "I don't think it's possible for a person to understand himself."_

_The diner disappeared but the two of them remained as the walls of the interrogation room enveloped them._

_He pounded the table in frustration and anger, then glared hard at the lawyer as he gritted out while pointing his finger at him, "Don't mistake my reason for being here."_

_Tagman's eyes were red rimmed and blurred with tears as he pleaded, "Why…Why do I do this? I want to know…I don't know…"_

_He felt trapped, restricted and frozen. His lungs burned, ached for air as he held it inside…Couldn't let it out, couldn't breathe…He couldn't…_

_Nicole's voice in his ear as if she was in the room with him; it was cold, teasing, and made his muscles tense. "…practically one in the same."_

Jerking awake, he gasped for air as his body trembled. Sucking in air into his lungs, he rubbed hard at his eyes as he fought hard against those evading thoughts. He lifted his head and stared over at the remains of his bed.

The mattress was pushed off to one side while shreds of fabric that had been his sheets covered his floor. The blanket had been Alex's, and he never remembered carefully folding it afterwards and placing it on the chair in the corner.

He's been filled with so much rage, all he really remembered was seeing red and pulling and tearing and gritting his teeth until all the pain went away. Until he destroyed what Caleb had destroyed for him. He felt like setting the whole damn house on fire now, but barely managed to shake that irrational and illogical thought out of his head.

No, what he really felt like doing was tracking Caleb down, of beating the shit out of him…He felt like killing.

It didn't matter how educated and intelligent he was, some times he simply felt what he felt. Emotions had no moral code, no compass pointing him in the right direction. Emotions were unpredictable, overwhelming, and completely out of his control. Sure, he could try and control it most of the time from being shown, or known, but he could never stop himself from feeling it deep inside. He could never stop it from boiling deep in his gut, making his body ache, his head throb, and his heart race.

Typically, normally, that would have been what he battling deep within his soul. But now, he just felt tired. Old and tired…He felt ready to give into the depression he'd been able to put off for a while as he focused all his thoughts and energy on work.

Caleb was gone, in the wind…

How did he find out where he lived? How…Who?

Bobby reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the complete list of Caleb's movements since he'd given him the tracker. Staring at the places and times, he mapped Caleb's movements out in his head as he followed him around. He could see it as clear as if he was tailing the kid. Following him along the city streets, and then onto the subway…He knew that subway entrance, he knew the route, all the stops along the way…Williamsburg…

_3__rd__ Street Diner_… "He was following me," Bobby spoke softly to himself as he stared at the sheet and the time Caleb was in the borough. It was at the same time he was there, when he was talking to Frank.

Then Caleb left the time he had left, the time Frank would have left. Caleb had gotten on a train to Queens but never got off. He turned around in Queens, never leaving the subway station, and then went back into the city, but…Queens.

Taking out his cell phone, he called his brother. _Pick up, pick up…Frank…_

"Hello?"

Letting out a breath, he said, "Hey, uh, Frank, it's Bobby. I, uh…I'm not bothering you, am I?"

Frank was quit for a moment before answering, "I'm just getting up…What'd you want?"

Bobby rubbed at his head as he cut right to the chase, he asked, "I have to know if…Do you live in Queens?"

Frank was again quite before answering, "Yeah, I'm staying with a friend until I get a place of my own. Why, what's going on?"

"Did, uh…on the subway, after we talked…" He felt his hand start to jerk the phone as the anger started to rebuild. "Did you talk to anyone? A kid…?"

"There was a guy who asked about you. He said he saw us talking and he recognized you from your help at his high school."

"My help?"

"Yeah, something about volunteering or something, I don't remember. I figured it was a public service thing."

"You told him I was a cop?"

Frank dropped the phone, he could hear it hit something solid and a slur of curse words before it was picked up. "Sorry," he told him and that was when it clicked in his head what his brother was doing. He was getting high.

His jaw twitched as he gripped the phone harder. "Did you tell him I was a cop?" he stressed in anger.

"I may have mentioned it, but he already knew from the help at the school…Why are you calling me anyway?"

"And let me guess, he offered you a hit and you told him where I lived? Didn't you? You, God, Frank, what's the matter with you? Is that what you're getting high on right now? Drugs that he gave you on the train!"

Frank was silent and then he asked in stunned confusion, "How'd…?"

"You…stupid…son-of-a-bitch!"

"Hey, fuck you, Bobby. I don't call you up to put you down you selfish, self-centered bastard-"

He flipped his phone shut at the same time Frank hung up on him and then it was gone. "Fuck," he yelled as he threw it hard across the room and heard it hit the wall and break, falling to pieces on the floor.

Burying his shaking hands in his head again, he didn't know what to do. He had no desire to do anything. No will to move off that floor, to talk to anyone or to do anything. He was so tired.

Tired and infuriated, with no way to ease either. He could drink. He could. He could give in and drown himself in an entire bottle. Then he would be able to sleep. He could also overdose himself with sleeping pills, that'd be just as effective. He could sleep forever then.

Closing his eyes, his head fell back against the wall.

_He was glaring down at Alex as she stood in fear before him. His hand was holding the door shut behind her, refusing to let her walk out on him. Refusing to be left alone again by his own inability to accept that she was right and he was wrong. He was so afraid to be alone again without her. He'd been alone for so long, even though they were struggling, the struggle was better than nothing. Their fighting was better than silence. "I told you that, that I love you and, and you still want to leave? I-I…I thought-…Forget I said anything. I didn't mean what I said…Wha-what I yelled out…I didn't mean…Wha'd you want me to say?" His eyes bore into Alex's eyes as he asked, pleaded, "What, just tell me what to do…I'll do it. I'll do anything."_

_His apartment faded into darkness and he could see and hear another man in the dark, but not where he was. He was nowhere, in a dark room, unable to see anything. He felt blind, feared it as his body tensed in panic._

"_I guess you've gotten used to being by yourself. Is that what you're saying?"_

"_You don't really get used to it," Tagman voice drifted in the darkness._

"_No, you…No, you don't ever really get used to it," he said even though his thoughts strayed to Alex. He thought of the distance that was still between them as a couple. How even though he was with her, he still felt completely alone in the world._

_He still felt the emptiness that he thought would never be filled._

"_John Tagman was beaten to death…" Carver's voice entered his mind as the office blurred around him._

"_I guess now everybody has what they want," Alex said, and he could hear the satisfaction along with the bitterness in her voice._

"_Hey, Bobby," Caleb said as he pointed to the hallway, taking a step toward it. "Wanna see my room?"_

_Walking toward the hallway, he followed Caleb but instead of going into the bedroom, he went to his left. In the master bedroom he could see the sunlight shining through the open blinds, see the crimson splattered everywhere as he approached the blood soaked bed. Stopping beside the lifeless woman, he stared down into her blank, lifeless eyes…doll's eyes, as his hand twitched. Feeling his fingers wrap around something, he lifted it up and saw the blade that had taken her life in his own bloody hand._

Jerking awake, he gasped for air once again as he felt his lungs burn, and stared blankly at his destroyed bed as the images and voices lingered in his head. They wouldn't leave him alone. He couldn't sleep because he couldn't let them leave him alone.

"_What plagues you?…We're all your mistresses, aren't we, Bobby? Your criminals. It's no wonder you can't sleep."_

It was all getting to be too much. He felt overwhelmed to the point that he felt like dying just to end the pain. He'd felt like this before, mostly as a kid. When he couldn't take it anymore, when the world became too chaotic, when his mother's delusions and screaming became too loud and his father's anger too unbearable…He wanted to die but couldn't, so he would go away.

As a child, he learned to sleep with his eyes open. It was a mild form of dissociation, and it wasn't a very healthy thing to do, but for him it worked. He needed to go away now. He needed to stop fighting the voices, stop fighting where his mind was trying to take him, and let it happen.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he felt himself start to drift away but not into a deep, dark sleep, but into his deep, dark head. The room unfocused, blurred, until he was lost in the dark crevasses of his mind.

He was so lost, he never heard his cell phone ring. And ring…and ring…before it went dead.

TBC…


	13. Thursday, February 17th, 2005 pt3

A/N: This day is finally coming to an end. Also, I do not own the song I use in this chapter, but I so do love it very much.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Getting up off the floor, he moved without much thought as if he was stuck in a fog. His head felt numb, his body heavy, and as if on autopilot he stripped off his clothes on the way to the bathroom. Standing under the warm spray, he closed his eyes as he washed the grim of the past day away and the dried blood off his right hand. Once clean, he bandaged his hand, ignoring the broken stitch, then brushed his teeth as he debated whether if he wanted to shave. Looking in the mirror, he stared into his dark brown eyes as he rubbed over the thickening hair growth. Leaving the room he decided to think about it later.<p>

Dressing in a pair of worn blue jeans, black t-shirt and a jungle green button down long-sleeved shirt, he felt the dampness of the remaining wetness on his back and neck. He picked up the discarded towel and rubbed it over his head, trying to soak up as much of the water as possible. Bending down, he picked up the sheet of paper that had the track list of Caleb's movements along with spots of blood from his busted hand. Stuffing it into his pocket, he tossed the towel toward the closet, ignoring the fact it didn't make it to the basket, before grabbing a pair of socks out of the drawer. As he sat on the bed to pulling the socks on he spotted his cell phone on the floor by the wall. It hadn't broken like he originally thought. However, the back piece had come off leaving the battery exposed but intact.

After he slipped his shoes on he picked up the cell. Clipping the back piece on, he pocketed the phone. Moving through the apartment, he listened to the silence as he made sure the front door was locked before grabbing his jacket. He slipped it on as he entered the kitchen before grabbing his keys, wallet, badge and gun. Then he opened a drawer and took out a pen and notepad. He had thankfully left his binder on his desk at SVU. Once out of the backdoor, he made sure it was locked before walking around the back of the building to the main sidewalk.

Head down, barely paying attention to the world around him, he walked. The sun was high in the sky, making him think it was around noon time and the streets were busy with midday lunch traffic and pedestrians, some even bumping into him but not apologizing. He didn't mind because he didn't offer an apology either. Five minutes of walking he was nearing a corner but took a left and jogged across the street before he even got to the crosswalk. He went right up to the red door and pulled it open then slipped inside.

The bar was anything but light on customers at midday. Many professionals flocked there for lunch in-between business meetings or clients, patients or cases. He knew some of them, especially the uniforms who stopped by between calls to grab a burger and fries. Amanda made the best steak burgers in that part of Brooklyn, maybe in the entire borough. He took a seat at the bar seeing how all the booths and tables were taken and ordered one of those famous steak burgers, fries and a beer as he took out the notepad and pen from his inside jacket pocket.

He had to think and sitting on his floor wasn't doing him any good. However, the few hours he spent 'lost' in his head had given him the false sense of sleep. It was a façade, but one that he knew well and relied on too often.

He would never tell anyone, and it wasn't in his personnel record with the department, but many years ago while working on patrol he had gone to see a sleep therapist. Bypassing the police medical exam, he'd gone to the VA for assistance since he was still collecting benefits from the military, and he figured he might as well put it to good use. The therapist had suggested a sleep clinic, and since he was due to use some leave or lose his leave, he took it.

For one whole week he went to the clinic, slept in the beds with wires hooked up to him, as they tried to figure out why he couldn't sleep for months, but then when he finally would, it would be deep bouts filled with nightmares. The therapists told him that he was stuck in a cycle. His cycle was this: long periods of deep sleep, making him in an almost trance like state in which nightmarish dreams, or sometimes memories, would torture him. These trances would then be followed by weeks, sometimes months, of insomnia.

When he asked why, the best the therapist could tell him was that it was his minds way of defending itself against the fear of the nightmares. In an essence, it was a self-defense mechanism that his mind was using.

If he didn't sleep, he didn't dream.

"_It's as if your mind itself has repressed anxiety," his doctor had told him. "It could be connected to your job, your childhood, your experiences in the military…all of it combined, who knows. But what I do know is that when you have insomnia, it's your minds way of defending itself, while at the same time, protecting you."_

"_Okay," he said with a nod. "I can uh…I get that. I mean, the anxiety, I get that a lot and then I do, I, uh…I tend to push everything down, you know. Emotionally, I go numb just to get through the day sometimes. I just didn't think that my mind could do the same thing. How uh, how do I stop it? I don't want pills," he quickly told the doctor. "I'm a cop, I can't be taking sleeping pills, feeling groggy and foggy in the head the next day or oversleeping. I need to be alert, so…What can I do?"_

_The doctor was quiet for a moment, probably thinking what could be done besides the use of a sleeping aid, before answering, "Other patients have benefited from dealing with their anxiety and feelings during their waking hours. Some write in journals, others use talk therapy, it all depends. If you can confront what it is that's causing you these anxious feelings before you go to sleep, you'll be able to sleep undisturbed."_

He remembered staring at the doctor like the guy was an idiot, but then he went home and tried it. He'd written in journals, some he still had in his desk in the study, but nothing had worked. After giving it much thought and consideration, he realized what it was that had been bugging him about the whole thing. About why he thought the doctor didn't know what he was talking about.

The doctor didn't know him, he just knew the symptoms and the symptoms, though common, the cause was never the same. What worked for other people wouldn't, and hadn't, worked for him because the doctor didn't understand that for him what was done was done. There was no going back to repair the damage done. He couldn't fix thirty-plus years of a wounded heart, soul, and mind with a damn band-aid.

Nor could he retrain his mind not to go off into his head when he could no longer deal with the surge of emotions he was so used to pushing down and ignoring. It was his way of defending himself from his own self-destruction.

If he hadn't had leaned against that wall and drifted away, he would have really lost it. And he was so afraid to fully understand what that actually meant because he'd never fully lost it before. He'd felt it many times, the surge, the overwhelming senses and thoughts and anger.

There were times he stood on the edge, glanced over the side and down into the dark abyss. Sometimes it was dark and cold and empty, others there were flames rolling and it was hot and consuming, but it had never been welcomed. It had never felt peaceful. There had never been light.

Looking into the abyss…What did the German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, say about that?

"_Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you…"_

The abyss was all around him in his line of work; always staring back at him, beckoning for him to be engulfed by the darkness. It was there, and he could feel it, and see it, as clearly as his mother could feel and see the hallucinations in her own damaged head. She slipped into her own dark abyss, and he wondered when it would be his turn; that was, if he wasn't there already.

He wondered when he would become the monsters that he'd sworn to fight.

A plate of food and the cold bottle of beer was placed in front of him, breaking him as his thoughts as he looked up from the blank notepad he'd been absently tapping the pen onto. Giving a small smile of thanks to Nikki as she winked back at him, he sat the picked up the beer and took a sip before setting the pen down so he could eat his burger and fries. As he ate, the customers started to file out of the bar one by one, others two by two as they went back to work. Checking the clock, he saw it was one-thirty.

In a matter of minutes, he was practically alone besides the few college students or interns remained. He spotted two officers, Santiago and Graddic, in a booth by the window. The uniforms patrolled the area, including his neighborhood.

Santiago was the first to spot him. He smiled over at him and gave a wave, saying, "How's it going, detective? We heard about your place getting burglarized last night. That's some crazy shit, huh? The kid a hype, tweaker?"

Shaking his head, he told them, "He uses, but it had nothing to do with drugs . Did you get the BOLO?"

"There wasn't much about it, just that the kid's now a fugitive," Santiago said as he took a sip of his soda.

"We were told he off-ed his moms and then broke into your home," Graddic spoke up from around a mouthful of fries. "We figured he was high when he committed the murder, and then went looking for some quick cash. If you think he'll come back, we'll make sure to swing by your apartment every hour or so."

"Appreciate it, but I doubt he'll be back. I'm investigating him for that ADA thing."

"No shit," Santiago said in surprise. "How'd he find you?"

"I was tracking him, tailing…surveillance," he said, and not wanting to say anything specific, especially about his brother, he kept it vague. "He must've realized it and turned the tables. What he did, breaking in, it was a statement…He has no reason to come back."

"Still, we'll drive by a few times, if that's okay with you?"

Bobby couldn't say no to that. The uniforms were going out of their way to show that they had his back, and for the brothers in blue, even if that was all they could do, it was a big deal. "Okay, yeah uh, thanks."

Just then he heard a crackle on the radio and then dispatch relaying a holdup in progress five blocks away. Santiago jumped up at the same time going for his wallet.

"I got it, guys, go chase that," Bobby told them as he waved gestured to their plates of half eaten burgers, fries and half filled glasses of soda.

"You sure," Graddic asked even though he was halfway to the door.

"Yeah, go…Serve and protect," Bobby said as he watched as the two cops took off out of the bar and to their patrol car. He heard the sirens blaring all the way down the street as he watched as one of the waitress start to clear the table.

He'd remembered the days of barely finished meals before the next call came in. Hell, it still happened but not as often as when he'd been in uniform.

_To serve and protect…_

It was nearly laughable that he actually took that motto to mean to serve and protect the people. It was also a shame that the public actually thought that the motto actually stood for that. It didn't.

The first thing he learned in the military, and then in the academy was the truth. He served the State. He served the Government. His duty wasn't to protect anybody unless in was in accordance with enforcing the law.

That's why during a riot, or a protest, he was on the other side of the barrier and not with the protesters. The public didn't understand that it didn't matter if he agreed with them, that if he didn't wear the badge he would probably be protesting right along with them. But they weren't his concern. He couldn't care too much, even though he did care too much, because when it came time to get a hold of the unruly crowd, to maintain public order, he had to do anything but protect them. He had to be the one to hurt them.

He had to take them down and get the people under control and sometimes that meant using force. He had to put the people he wanted to protect more than anything in the hospital, all to serve and protect the State. All to enforce the law. That was his duty. That was what the badge was for, to show the public that he was in charge of enforcing.

He had no duty to serve the people. He had no duty to protect the people. If they were killed, they were killed and it was never his duty to have prevented it from happening. He just responded to the call to enforce the law, to find the killer, and bring them to justice.

Everyday he heard the public's cry of "You serve us! You have to protect us! That's your job!"

If that was his job, he wouldn't be a detective who only responded to the public after they were dead.

Then he always heard the police yell back, "Tell it to the Judge!" The Judge would then, in turn, tell the public, "The police have no obligation to protect you. The police do not serve you. The mission of the police is to enforce the law and to administer the will of the State."

_Administer the will of the State…_That was a cop's mission.

Today's public believed that he was a civil servant responsible to them. In reality, he was a civil servant responsible only to the government and the governmental policy.

It didn't matter if he believed in that policy. It didn't matter if he trusted that policy. It didn't matter if he hated that policy with ever fiber of his being, he had to enforce it. He had to punish people for it and lock them up for it. Even if the policy and the law sickened him, he had to do it. He wore the badge. He put on the gun and the handcuffs and went into work everyday and he would do his duty.

Anyone who had never worn the uniform, had never put on the badge, would never understand. They would never feel what he felt everyday looking into that mirror, seeing his shield clipped on his belt or on his coat, with the gun on his hip, and fully understand what that meant. The sacrifices and the amount of weight it put on a person. He was the only person appointed by law to use deadly force. To end a life.

Life, death…good and evil, all in his hands. To enforce, to serve, to protect…To give your life to save a life or to take a life and go home alive at the end of the day. He wasn't Superman, he couldn't stop a bullet, but would he jump in front of one to save some John or Jane Doe on the street who probably hated him? Or who, if he tried to pull out of a burning car and ended up paralyzing them in the effort, would sue him instead of being grateful that he didn't leave them there to burn?

Sometimes, he hated the public for being so demanding, and unforgiving, and then crying to him when someone pulled a gun in the middle of a crowded room. The public never looked to a nurse or a doctor or a teacher or a cab driver…No, they looked to him. They run to the cop in the room to step in front of them and that crazy madman with a gun.

Then the choice had to be made. Him? You? Them? There was never a neither. Someone always had to die.

And if he pulled his gun, if he shot and killed the madman…what exactly did that make him? A hero? Or nine times out of ten it made him the bad guy. He was being sued, or the public cried that it was an outrage and that the police used excessive force. The State he was paid to serve claimed his actions were unjustified and the man he shot and killed had a wife and kids, that the gunman was a victim, not a crazy madman.

Then he was discredited, put on suspension, his gun and shield taken away…Punished like a criminal for doing his job. For performing his duty.

And it went on, and on, and on…

Where was the line again, exactly? How far over to the dark side could he go before he was deemed 'in the wrong'? Who was he allowed to shoot and who was supposed to shoot him? Did the public even care about him when he cared too damn much about them?

He never heard about a civilian jumping in front of a bullet to save the life of a police officer. When a cop gets killed in the line of duty, the public never cries in outrage. It's expected, sometimes even joked about.

_Death to the pigs_, he heard one civilian scream that out during a cops funeral procession once.

Hero, killer, sinner, saint…A cop had to be all those or else he would never make it. He would burn out and leave the force. He would eat his own gun because he couldn't take it anymore. Then the public would wonder why. How could a hero who everyone loved after 9/11 fall so hard and so fast?

Maybe because the public soon forgot. Or maybe because the public knew too well that the real message that should be painted on the side of police cars read: '_Protect yourselves, because the police aren't paid to care'_.

But, even though he hated a lot of things about being a cop, there was too much he loved about it. He couldn't be anything else. He didn't choose to be a cop, being a cop chose him.

The good cops, the real good cops, cared. They were the ones who were selfless in the performance of their duties. They were the ones worried about if they were doing their job as best as they could. They were the ones worried about their partners, about the other cops they served with, and about the people they came across everyday in the line of duty.

Unlike other cops, he wasn't trying to become a member of the brass. He didn't want to be a Lieutenant or a Captain. He never wanted to be anything other than a detective. And that made him a lone wolf, an outsider in the world of police officers who valued career over lives. Who valued the State over its people. He did care about the people.

He served them, and he would protect them, because he would shoot the crazy madman with the gun even if it meant making him the monster he hated.

Even if it cost him countless hours of sleep. Made him renounce God and his faith. Even if it tore his relationships apart and numbed his soul and turned off his heart. Made him never wanting to bring a child into his fucked up world. Even if it desensitized him to the fear of dying and to the violence that made him think it was okay to kill in order 'to serve and protect' the people. Made him an enemy to the State, a liability to the brass, and a scapegoat for the public. A man that the survivors could sue and smack and yell at and hate.

Every straight out of the academy gung-ho rookie wanted to be a cop until they took a life. Or until they couldn't get their gun out fast enough before taking a bullet. Or until they saw their partner shot in front of them. Or until they were on trial for doing what they thought had been the right decision.

He questioned his own ability to continue being a cop once. A year on the job and he came across a dead four-year-old black boy in a cardboard box who'd been beaten, raped, and discarded like his precious young soul meant nothing. Then to make it worse, they never found out who the boy was, and they never found out who did that to him. No killer was ever brought to justice. No parents or family members, relatives, came forward to claim the body. No name given to the boy who had his life taken away in such a brutal way at such a young age.

No one cared but the police officers who found him. Not even the public. There was no foundation made in his name, nor alert system put in place because of the horrible crime committed against him. No funeral, no one crying in the street, holding up signs demanding justice.

His partner at the time was Fields, and he had referred to the boy as Little Loe Boy, considering both how little the boy was, but also that the cardboard box was a shipment box from the L. L. Bean retail company, giving the initials of L.L.B. It was also a play on the calling of unknowns as John Doe, or babies, Baby Doe.

_Little Loe Boy_…Somehow that had made the case that much more heartbreaking, but the name had stuck.

The only people who lost sleep over Little Loe's death were himself and the other cops involved on the case. Every so often he would find himself dreaming of that little boy, except in his nightmares the boy was alive and crying alone in that cardboard box, waiting for someone to give him a name, a voice…Waiting for someone to bring the person responsible to justice.

Who in their right mind would choose to be a cop anyway?

Having to deal with death and torture and hate and misery every single day of their life. It wasn't a choice, but a calling. Only cops who felt that similar calling were worth a damn in his book.

And because of that calling, day after day, he would continue to put on the badge, the gun, and stare into the abyss and wait for it to stare back. The darkness never bothered him. After all, he was used to the dark. It was the light in the darkness that always terrified him.

"Another beer, Bobby?" he heard Nikki ask.

"Uh, yeah, why not," he mumbled as he downed the rest of his first bottle.

_Little Loe_…Damn, he hadn't thought about him in a long time; at least a year. Shaking his head of one tragedy, he tried to refocus on the present one.

Absently picking at his fries, he picked up his pen and went over everything he could think of concerning the case. Pulling out the track listing, he went over it again, this time without the added confusion as to how Caleb had found him. Now that he knew he was being followed, and that Caleb had followed Frank to Queens, he could focus on everything else.

He knew for a fact that Caleb had been at school during the morning hours before skipping out. However, Caleb had gone right to where he was at in Williamsburg. There was no way he could have known where he would be unless he had made him, or been concerned about him before, and had a friend tail him.

Someone had been tailing him, and he'd missed it. But, it made sense and it cleared some questions he'd had spinning around his head for days. Caleb had an accomplice. He doubted Caleb was stupid enough to go around, trying to pickup and talk to virtual strangers without backup. Without someone watching his back. It could be anyone. A friend at school, someone he'd befriended since coming to New York, or someone who followed him from Alabama. Old, young…male, female?

_His girlfriend?_

So many possibilities but it was a start. He'd take an uncertain start over being stalled and out of leads any day of the week. Pulling out his cell phone, he went to use it when he realized it was dead.

Closing his eyes, he cursed under his breath as he looked around the bar. "You have a payphone?"

"A payphone? Those things still exist," Nikki teased as she sat a bottle down in front of him. "Bar phone's at the other end," she told him as she pointed to the plate.

"I'm done," he told her as he dug into his back pocket for his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

Nikki smiled slightly as she said, "Cops eat free."

Bobby shook his head as he told her, "You're losing half your profit with that attitude. You don't know what kind-of cop I am."

Shrugging, she said, "You seem like a good cop to me."

Bobby smirked as he pulled out a fifty and tossed it down. "Try me. Ask me anything about being a cop, and then let's see if I still eat free or not."

She picked up the fifty bucks and narrowed her eyes at him. "Very tempting offer, detective, okay, I'll bite. Have you ever killed anyone."

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "Okay…Let me ask you this, if you found out that I shot and killed an unarmed man…would I still eat free?"

She stared at him and then said, "No. You'll be an asshole cop who should no longer have a gun."

Bobby smiled as he gave a nod, saying, "Then I'm an asshole cop who shouldn't be wearing a gun, but I am because I'm not an asshole cop. I'm a good cop who did my job. I'm a cop who only ever has five seconds to determine life or death."

"He was unarmed."

"I didn't know that," he blatantly argued.

"So why'd you shoot him?"

"He was guilty, and, he made me."

She laughed at that and said, "No one makes you shoot them."

"Spoken like a true civilian. Tell me, Nikki, what was I supposed to do, walk away?"

"Why not," she said with a smirk and shrug. Like it was that simple.

It was never that simple. Bobby leaned on the bar as the stared right into her eyes. "_You_ can walk away. _You_ have no obligation to stay. Me, on the other hand, I do have an obligation. I can't just shake my head, turn, and walk away. I'll be a coward who doesn't deserve to wear the badge."

"He didn't have a weapon," she stressed again.

"And like I said, I didn't know that. When a cop tells you to stop, to not move, you're supposed to stop and don't move until that cop tells you what to do. When you do move on your own, and a cop tells you not to move again or he'll shoot you…You _don't_ move," he stressed to her. "If you move again, you're _making_ that cop have to shoot you. That's the way it works. I can't do my job if I'm too afraid to follow through on my threats. What good would I be if a killer knows that I'll never actually do anything that I threaten to do? Not very good, because not only would I be dead, but also my partner, and maybe even you or any other innocent victim."

"So, you have the right to kill someone if they move when you tell them not to move."

Bobby gave a nod, "Yes, I do, especially if the guy's a known serial killer who was last seen with a gun, running from the crime scene where he'd just strangled a woman to death with her own purse strap. I picked him up two blocks from the scene and chased him another four. I got him cornered, drew my gun and told him I was the police and for him not to move. He moved as he reached around his back, and the only emotion in his eyes was pure hate…I knew that if he pulled his weapon, I was dead. It only takes two seconds to pull a gun out and get it on target, three seconds to fire off two or three rounds depending on recoil. Five seconds," he held up five fingers. "That's all the time I'll ever have to decided whether I want to die or if I want to live. That day, I chose to live. I shot him center mass. The bullet from my gun ripped through a lung, his heart, and then impacted the brick wall behind him. He dropped dead right in front of me…and I hated him for making me do it. I remembered yelling at him for moving. He didn't have to die that day. He didn't have to…because I didn't want to kill him, but I didn't want to die either. I didn't know that he tossed the gun before I spotted him. I didn't know that he was reaching around his back for the pack of smokes he kept in his back pocket…"

They were both quiet for a second before he said, "When you hear a cop say, "He made me shoot him, he made me do it". Believe me, most of the time, if not all of the time, that cop really means it. We never want to shoot anybody. If we do, we are _made_ to do it because we had no other choice. I remembered yelling for him not to do it. I said, "Don't make me shoot you. Don't do it! Don't move!" What the public doesn't understand is that this isn't the movies, you know, the bad guy never talks. He never holds you at gun point and starts confessing or talking about the who or the what or when or the why or how. In real life, when a man points a gun at a cop, he's not saying a damn thing. His only intent is to kill the cop, to-to get away. To continue running and killing or raping. There is also no time to talk him down. Sometimes they can be talked down, if the situation is right, but most of the time they can't be or they won't give you the chance. And it's quick. A few seconds quick. The moment you see that barrel, to even register that he has a gun in his hand…you're dead. Game over, no restarts. Am I sorry I shot him? Hell no. And if I had to do it again, I would, because he'll still be the man who murdered seven women, and I'll still never know if he had a gun or not. Now, am I still an asshole cop who shot an unarmed man…or, am I a cop just doing my job, and sometimes that job really, _really_ sucks?"

She was quiet for a long moment, thinking, and then she went to hand his fifty bucks back.

"I don't eat for free," he told her as he picked up the notepad, pen and beer and headed to the other end of the bar to use the phone. "Cash me and the other two cops out, keep the change."

"That's like thirty bucks."

"And you're complaining?" he asked as he sat at the other end and picked up the phone. While dialing he watched Nikki at the cash registered. Once she put the fifty in the drawer, she pulled out three tens and shut the drawer.

Holding it up, she said, "Going once…twice…all mine," before rolling up the money and putting it down her shirt, in her bra…

Bobby blinked back for a moment as he forgot what he was doing. At hearing the other end of the line ringing, he realized he must have completed the call before he got distracted.

"I saw that," she called over her shoulder.

Bobby felt the blush heat his face as he shifted on the bar stool. "Your fault, you gave me plenty to see."

She just laughed as she walked away from him, back toward the kitchen, and putting a lot of movement into her hips along the way. He may have been with Alex, but he sure as hell wasn't blind. Women could still turn his head, even Nikki who he knew for a fact was dating the cook, Amanda.

After five rings the phone picked up, "Special Victims, Detective Stabler speaking."

"Hey, Elliot, it's Bobby."

"Where the hell have you been, I've been trying to call you all morning."

"I've been sleeping," he lied as he took a hefty drink of the beer. "What's going on?"

"We got a missing coach's daughter, that's what's going on."

Bobby stilled as he asked, "Coach…Elise?"

"The grandmother swears she was there last night before she went to bed. Patterson said he checked on her this morning before leaving to go to the courthouse, that was around nine. No one's seen or heard from her since. I tried calling you but I got the voicemail."

"My phone died and I forgot to charge it…I'm…What's the status now?"

"APB, they're sweeping the neighborhood, calling all her friends and relatives. Autistic or not, she wouldn't just leave. There was no forced entry but the backdoor was unlocked. Grandmother thinks she left while she was either on the phone or in the shower."

Rubbing at his head, he sighed as he asked, "Does Patterson know yet?"

"No; his phone's off. Figured he turned it off when he entered the courthouse. I thought maybe you would want to be the one to talk to him."

Bobby nodded as he finished off the beer and stared down at the notepad. "Caleb was working with someone. A friend or…possibly his girlfriend. Whoever it is, he or she followed me and could've tipped Caleb off where I was. Maybe he even knew I was a cop before…" Before Frank told him on the subway.

"I'll see what I can dig up here. He could've mentioned someone in the interviews with Gardner or something."

"See if any of the other four school pals of his were absent yesterday or the day before."

"I'm on it," Elliot told him before quietly speaking into the phone, "And just a heads up, Liv's back. She didn't look too happy when I mentioned we're partnered with you for the time being."

Bobby smirked as he took a glance around the bar. "I'm going to the courthouse. Don't try to call me, I'll be in once I talk to Patterson."

"All right, good luck."

Once he hung up the phone, he gathered his stuff and hurried out the door. He vaguely heard Nikki yell after him to have a good day before he was out into the cold air, heading toward the nearest subway.

* * *

><p><em><span>U.S. District Court<span>_

_Civic Center, Manhattan_

He paced up and down the hallway outside the court room as he waited. The arraignment hearings had been called back into order since being recessed for lunch. Bobby had peeked in a few minutes ago and heard the Judge call up the next person on the docket, an Adam Nevell. They were on the N's. He had spotted Guy Patterson near the back roll as he waited for his son to be called in.

Bobby left the courtroom and started to pace as he regretted having to tear the man's world back down. He didn't know if it had anything to do with the case, or if the girl had runaway for some unknown reason, or if she was kidnapped…He had no idea, but that didn't change the fact that she was missing and that the news was going to destroy all the progress the Patterson family had made since this whole case started.

He was aching for a smoke but hadn't bought any after running out that morning. Digging into his pockets, he didn't find no gum or anything to chew on, making him groan in frustration as he kept pacing around the marble floor. The courthouse didn't have benches to sit on. He'd asked about that once and was told by a Sheriff who worked security for the building that it was to present the image of swift justice. That no one had to wait to get what was coming to them.

Bobby thought it was ludicrous. There was no such thing as swift justice in a courthouse. It took months and sometimes years to take a case to trial, and then it took weeks to months to prosecute the trial, and then it took days for the jury to deliberate. How was that swift? The only real swift justice was out on the street.

Leaning against the wall, he stared up at the ceiling as he tried to calm his growing anxiety and need for a cigarette. He closed his eyes and felt a weight pressing down on him. A burden he couldn't quite place but knew would be there for a long time to come.

Chloe Elise Patterson had disappeared from her home. Shaking his head, he heard the door to the courtroom open. Looking over, he saw a mother, or grandmother, dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex as she hurried along two young kids. Whoever she had come to court for must be going back to lockup instead of home.

Working his jaw, he sighed and turned to push the door back open.

"State v. Zachary Patterson."

Bobby watched as the door off to the side of the tables and Judge's bench opened and a uniform escorted in the son. As the charges read and plea of guilty given, he scanned the room and didn't see Rob Jenkins anywhere and wondered if he had left of if he wasn't released…

"State agrees to release Mr. Patterson to the custody of his father pending a sentencing hearing, Your Honor."

"Granted," the Judge said as he banged his gavel. That was probably the easiest arraignment he had all day.

Bobby stepped out of the courtroom and waited for father and son. It wasn't long, only a few short minutes before the door opened and out walked Guy and Zach Patterson, smiling and weary eyed. They were both as exhausted as he felt and the moment they saw him, their smiles dropped. He didn't know if it was the look in his eyes, or the fact that he wasn't smiling that had given him away, but whatever it was it caused them both concern.

"Detective Goren," Patterson said as he stepped up to him. "What're you doing here? What's going on?"

Looking back-and-forth between the two, he said, "Why don't we go over here to talk. Okay? Get out of the way of…" he gestured to the door as he started to move across the wide marble floor to the other side, by the elevators. "I got a call, uh…this morning. It's about your daughter," he told Patterson once they were far enough away. There was no easy way to say what he was about to say, so he just said it. "She's missing."

"Missing?" Patterson asked in confusion as he stared at him. "How…What…" he shook his head and then said, "My mother was there watching. That doesn't make any sense."

Zach just stared down at the floor, backing tensing and hands pulsing at his sides. Huh…Bobby looked back at the father before saying, "Do you have any idea where she could've gone? I know you mentioned friends she had before…Could, uh…Could she have gone to any of their houses? She probably didn't understand that they were no longer her friends…Any special place she liked to go?"

Patterson started walking around the floor, thinking and chewing on his thumb. "I don't know. Is there a search, anyone looking?"

Nodding, he told him, "Of course. We've got a search out, dogs canvassing…Her mother's still in Maryland, right?"

"Yeah. She wouldn't go there, she doesn't have any money," he told him as his voice started to shake. "We got to find her, Zach, come on."

Bobby had been keeping his eyes on Zach the whole time and when he started to move away, he stopped him. "What is it?"

Zach shook his head. "It's nothing."

Stepping right up to him, he stared the young man right in his eyes as he said, "No, you know something."

"Detective," Patterson called out to him as he stepped up to him.

Holding out his injured hand, he blocked the dad from getting closer as he nearly pushed Zach into the wall. He was being a little too physical, but he wasn't exactly in top form. Pinning the kid to the wall, he said, "Your sister is missing, Zach. She's autistic, out there alone…scared, tell me what you know."

Zach looked to his father and then back to him. Taking a breath, he said, "I heard her talking late at night once, on the phone. It sounded, personal, you know…Like how a girl would talk to a boy she liked. Elise, she's seventeen, looks seventeen, but her minds it's a childs, so she was talking about girl stuff, not adult stuff."

"Okay, and…" he stressed as he stepped back slightly.

"And, the next day when she was out with our mom shopping, I went into her room. I was concerned, she's my sister and, and I was scared that maybe some asshole was trying to be her boyfriend. I found her diary and she wrote about a boy she liked at school and how he liked her."

"You're telling me that you knew that Elise had a boyfriend and you didn't tell me," Patterson turned to his son, yelling at him.

"I wanted to be sure first, and then find the guy myself and kick his ass. Okay. I asked her about him one night, but she wouldn't tell me anything. She just giggled and told me it was a secret. Then the whole thing with Caleb happened and I let it drop."

Bobby had moved all the way back by then, letting the father take care of his son, aside from hitting the kid of course, as his mind reeled. It tilted a little as he thought. As his thoughts drifted, took leaps and made connections.

How did the child porn magazines end up in Patterson's house, ready to frame the coach? How would Caleb had gotten in, undetected to plant the evidence…Who would, and could, he use? Who could he control…?

Bobby closed his eyes and walked away, cursing under his breath as he resisted the urge to get sick, or hit the wall, or do something destructive as the thought hit him, and hit him hard. It fit the profile. It fit Caleb's obsessive behavior, and how he had to weave himself into every part of his obsessions life. That was one of the reasons why Caleb had to break into his house, why he had to touch his things and wear his clothes…

It was why Caleb had gone into Patterson's home, planted the evidence…Befriended his daughter.

Taking a breath, he turned back around and asked, breaking up the yelling match between father and son, "How did the cat die?"

Patterson tore his hurt and angered eyes away from Zach as he said, "What?"

"Your cat?" he asked again, this time a little more forcefully. "What happened to it to cause it to die?"

"He must have eaten something," Zach answered. "The vet said he was poisoned. It could've been anything left in the yard, or in the garage."

Giving a nod, Bobby asked, "Is there, uh…any physical marks on your daughter that could ID her?"

Patterson glared at him, saying, "You think she's dead?"

"No, I just…Anything? Scars, birthmarks, anything I can put out to the public to help find her?"

Patterson breathed out as he rubbed over his head. "A birthmark, on the inside of her thigh."

Bobby gave another nod as he started for the front entrances. "Thanks, uh…you can uh, go home now. There will be someone there, police, to get statements." He left without looking back as he started for the street.

One Police Plaza was closer, two blocks over and across the plaza. It didn't take long before his long strides broke out into a run. He got his ID and badge out as he approached the gate and show Officer Daniels who barely got a good look at anything before he was halfway to the doors. It was a good thing was known or else he would've gotten a bullet in his back before he ever made it. He didn't stop to get a visitors pass from the desk and he charged into an elevator and hit the button for the eleventh floor.

He knew that Alex was at her sisters but hopefully Logan had decided to come into work that day. His breathing was labored as his heart pounded into his chest while he waited for the elevator to reach the eleventh floor. Finally, the doors opened and he took off around the corner. Logan was right in front of him as his old desk.

He yelled out before he reached the open glass doors, "Logan, I need to use the phone."

Mike looked over at him in confusion as he hit the desk and grabbed the phone on Alex's desk. "Slow down, Super Flash. Where's the fire?"

"The fire is my case, and it's very quickly burning down…" he dialed the number he waited as he hands twitched and jerked from the adrenaline rush that had engulfed his body. He'd even been tunneled vision half the run over to the building that he'd nearly been hit by a car. "I got him…I got Caleb, that little mother-" he said the exact moment the phone was picked up.

"Benson."

What he had on the tip of his tongue died as he heard her voice. It took him a moment to register that it wasn't Elliot on the other end but his partner. "Oh, uh…Benson is Stabler around?"

"He's getting lunch, what's up, Bobby?"

"How about Fin? Is he in?"

"Damn it, Goren, what's going on? I'm not handing this phone over. I've been assigned to help you out on this case, so what's going on? What did Patterson say?"

Taking a breath, he leaned on Alex's desk as he told her, "I got it, okay. Caleb, he was able to get into Patterson's house and plant the magazines because he'd gotten in good with his daughter, Elise. They must have met at school and became friends. She's his girlfriend. He was calling her. We need to check phone records for calls coming in or going out to Caleb's number, home, cell…check for any unregistered, unknown calls as well coming in. He's been using her this whole time, probably getting whatever he could learn from her about Patterson and then about me. I told Elise my name was Bobby and that I was a police officer when I first went to talk to Patterson…If she had mentioned me to Caleb, he would have put two and two together. They're together, so put an APB out on the both of them, let's treat it as, a uh, a kidnapping, that Caleb took her against her will. I don't want it out that she probably went willingly."

Benson was quiet for a long moment before saying, "Oh, are you done?"

"Yes, I'm done," he nearly snapped at her even though he heard the teasing in her voice. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he said, "Sorry, Benson…It's, uh…it's been a long day."

Again she was quiet before telling him, "I'll inform the Captain and ADA Novak, see where we go from here. How about getting some sleep. I know you guys were up all day and night and half of today with this. I've got it from here."

Bobby didn't want to hand it off to her, but he knew it was for the best. He was dead tired. "Yeah, thanks. Uh, let Elliot know…Tell him that Patterson mentioned Elise has a-a, uh, a birthmark, on her thigh…That's how, because of the picture we found in Caleb's backpack, I think it's her. He'll know what I'm talking about."

"Will do. Anything else?"

"Uh…no. All right, thanks," he said before hanging the phone up. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and rubbed at his head, then the bridge of his nose and eyes. He was getting a headache.

"Wow. The daughter?"

Bobby glanced up and gave a grimace of a smile. "Yeah…" he said in a rough voice. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "This job, sometimes…I really hate it, Mike."

"Don't we all. You're not the only one, believe me. We all feel it sometimes. This kind-of case especially. A whole family torn apart by this whack-job…It's a damn shame. It could be worse though, they could be dead. You can't come back from dead."

Bobby stared over at Mike as he gave a curt nod. "Sometimes, you can't come back from life either. You staying long?"

"Nah, I just came in to file some of this paperwork so Alex won't have to worry about it tomorrow," Logan said as he went back typing on the computer. "We're not on call this weekend, thank God, so I'm trying to ease the Friday stress load as much as possible so we can get out a little early. How 'bout you? Are you on call this weekend?"

He shrugged as he said, "I don't even know which department I'll be working for this weekend." Bobby sat for a moment, listening to the hustle and buzz of the squad room. Wrinkling his head in confusion, he tried to reason out why he was so desperate to get there. He could have easily used the phones down in the lobby.

Or used Patterson's cell phone in the courthouse, but then he would've had to talk in front of the dad and son…He didn't want to say all of that over the phone, risking the chance that they would overhear. Looking toward the office, he saw Deakins in there alone.

"The Captain busy?"

Logan glanced over to the office and shrugged, "Hell if I know. Be careful though, he's been in a mood."

Bobby got up and headed toward the office. He tapped on the doorframe and waited until Deakins looked up.

"Goren, what're you doing here?"

Stepping into the office, he shut the door and walked over to the chair and sat down heavily in the chair. After a couple of long moments, were neither of them spoke, he finally cleared his throat, saying, "I…I, uh…" Taking a deep breath, he leaned on his knees as he brought his hands up to his mouth. Staring at the front of the desk, he finally said, "I need help."

Deakins sighed and gave a nod as he sat his pen down and leaned back in the chair. He seemed to be debating something in his head before saying, "I've had that chessboard in here for years. Never played a single game on it. How 'bout you come back, after five, and we'll have a game?"

Bobby smiled slightly as he got up. "Five, I'll be here."

"Good, see you then," Deakins told him as he picked up his pen and went back to his work. "Leave the door open."

Bobby left the door open as he left the office. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was three. He had two hours before he had to be back so he decided to go down to the file room on the lower floor. Getting off the elevator, he headed to the file room and yanked off his jacket as the heat increased ten times thicker and hotter.

Entering the room, he slung the jacket over an empty chair at the desk against the wall. He knew for a fact that the file he was after hadn't been put in the system yet. There were so many cases, so many files, that it was impossible to put every one of them in the NYPD computer system by hand. Not to mention all the new cases coming in everyday. They would need a team of at least five or more working around the clock to be able to get all the files in the computer and up to date.

Last he checked, it still hadn't been put in, so he went in search for it. The detectives who had originally handled the case had passed it along to the Cold Case division after two years. The Cold Case guys worked on it for a while before shelving it. Luckily for him, the Cold Case division that had picked it up was the one location in One Police Plaza.

Since the victim was unknown, all he had to go on was the date and the age and race of the victim. Opening up the first file cabinet labeled Sept - Oct 1994, he got to work locating the file. Forty-five minutes later, he finally found it. Case Number 94-1030.578..._Little Loe_.

Taking out the file, he closed the cabinet drawer and stood up. He used his sleeve to wipe his forehead, getting off the sweat, as he flipped the file open.

Bobby sat down at a desk against the wall and unbuttoned his cuffs before rolling his sleeves up. It was really fucking hot in that room. Once he was somewhat comfortable, he read over the case file. His own statement as the officer who found the boy was on the first page. He took a brief glance over his own words before flipping through the pages. He read over the detectives reports, their notes on the case, all the evidence they gathered and leads. There wasn't much. Then he read over what the Cold Case cops found. Nothing. He sighed and leaned back in the chair. Turning to the computer on the desk, he typed in his password for the NYPD account and waited for it to boot up as he took out his notepad and pen.

Over the course of an hour, he worked the case through the system and internet. He searched for any other MO's that matched the crime, other victims, unknown or known, around the same ages who had gone missing or turned up in the same area. He got some hits, but not much. Some were already in the file, some were recent so had been missed by the Cold Case guys who shelved the case in 2001, after 9/11. He could only imagine the cases that flooded that department after the towers came down.

Years worth of new leads; that is, if they were leads. There were a few L. L. Bean retail stores in New York, all upstate, with the closest in Yonkers. He flipped through the crime-scene photos of the cardboard box. The close up of the mailing address. Where the box had been shipped from was missing, but where was still intact. It had been to a P.O. Box in Brooklyn, the Cypress Hill neighborhood. But, the boy had been found in the Meatpacking District neighborhood of Manhattan.

Back in 1994, before the neighborhood was deemed ten years later as "New York's most fashionable neighborhood", the district had been the center of drug dealing and prostitution, particularly involving transsexuals, the BDSM subculture, and dozens upon dozens of "sex clubs". Despite the neighborhood the boy had been found in, Bobby always doubted that it was where the abuse and killing had taken place. It was just a convenient place to put the body. It would draw attention to the people living and working in the neighborhood and away from the real perpetrator.

It hadn't worked. The L. L. Bean shipping box with the P.O. Box address in Brooklyn had been the dead giveaway. What tranny shopped at L. L. Bean? He had asked, and had gotten plenty of laughs. The answer to that was no self-respecting one. They were looking for someone outside of the neighborhood. Someone most likely living in Brooklyn, but maybe working in or around the Meatpacking District.

Checking his watch, he closed the file and put it back where he got it from before heading back up to the eleventh floor. Most of the detectives who had been there just a few hours before were gone, either home, eating dinner, or still on the job chasing leads. Logan was gone and he wasn't too surprised. He knew Mike had to have been as tired as he was.

Deakins was in his office still, looking like he hadn't moved in two hours. Maybe he hadn't. He took a detour to the break room grabbed a coke out of the machine. Walking in the office this time without knocking, he draped his jacket over the chair before sitting down at the table with the chessboard and popped open the can.

Deakins got up and refilled his cup with more coffee before sitting down across from him. He took the plastic casing off the board and put it behind him on the table. "Shall we?" he said as he gestured to the board.

Bobby smirked as he studied the board and made the first move. As they played, they talked. He found himself talking a lot. He told Deakins about nearly everything, leaving some personal things out. But he got out about his PTSD fears, his depression, his want to stop drinking but inability to do so…About Alex moving out and then about the case. Caleb's break in, but not about his rage that morning. Hell, he even told the Deakins about Little Loe. He did leave out everything about the Major Case detectives. Andrews had talked to him, apologized, and explained himself. They had a truce and he saw no reason to bring it up to Deakins.

By the time he looked at the clock, it was eight o'clock. Three hours, and they were at a stalemate. Deakins could play. Smiling up at his once Captain, he said, "Play again?"

Deakins chuckled, "Some other time. How about tomorrow?"

"I, uh…I think I can do that. If we're both not too busy," Bobby said as he got up.

Deakins stood along with him. Once Bobby had on his jacket, he told him, "Bobby, I don't know what's best for you. You're able to handle a lot and keep going. If you say you don't want or need therapy, I'll take your word on that. But, I do think you need to talk about it all. I also think you have to let some of it go. Realize that you can't take it all on, especially all at once. That you can't control everything. I know that with a right brained guy like yourself that's hard to accept, but you have to learn to accept it. My advice, take a vacation. Get away from the job for a while before it buries you. As for the drinking, if you want me to get you into AA without the department heads knowing, I can do that. I know people. A buddy of mine's going on twenty-two years. I can get you in contact with him."

Bobby watched as he walked around his desk and took out a card and then flipped through his rolodex. Deakins found a number and wrote it down on the card and then handed it to him. He took it and flipped it over, reading the name and number. Looking up at Deakins, he thought maybe the Captain was right.

Maybe all he really needed was a break. Time away from the job, away from New York, away from everything. So much had happed in four months. No, it had been longer than that. It hadn't started with Alex's kidnapping, but before, even before John Tagman, maybe even before Nicole Wallace and her dive into the Hudson River. Six, seven months of non-stop turmoil?

"Yeah, uh…You could be right. All my inner talk about other cops burning out and buckling under the stress…Maybe all along it's, uh…me that I've been talking about. Just, couldn't admit it," Bobby said as he seriously thought about that. He could be right.

That felt right.

Deakins stepped up to him and put his hand on his shoulder, much like he'd seen father's do to their sons. "Good, because your life is worth living, Bobby. You need to take care of yourself. After this case is over, put in leave. Take in some AA meetings during that leave that way it's not conflicting with your work, and get some rest. Hell, I'll buy you two plane tickets myself if you can talk Alex into going with you."

At that, Bobby felt the worry twist his heart. "She doing okay?"

Smiling slightly, he gave a nod but said, "She's doing great with the work, but something's going on with her too. Now from what you're telling me, I think that it was you that was going on with her. You do know that what happens to you, also happens to her."

Bobby blinked back at that as he stepped back a little. Yeah, he knew that, but not to the extent that those words had clarified for him. He knew she wasn't getting a lot of sleep because of him, but other than that…He was always so focused on himself he barely saw what she was dealing with. "I gotta go. Thanks, Captain, again for the game."

"Anytime. You have a good night, Bobby."

Turning away, he headed out of the squad room and toward the elevator. Both his heart and mind feeling too heavy to bear.

* * *

><p><em><span>Liz and Terry's House<span>_

He stood outside on the porch and went to knock when he heard the laughter coming from the other side of the door. Lifting his head, he dropped his arm and tilted to see in through the slits in the blinds. The light was on in the living room and he could see Alex in there. She was on the floor playing with her nephew. They were both laughing hard about something as Nate clapped and then reached for a toy car.

He smiled to himself at the sight before stepping away. Taking a breath of the cold air, he sat down on the steps and took out the pack of cigarettes he'd bought along the way. As he lit it and took long drags off the smoke, he listened to the continued laughter. He couldn't go in yet. Alex deserved her time with Nate, and he was too tired and depressed to join in on that carefree moment. He would only worry Alex, and put a damper the playfulness.

Bobby didn't mind it, sitting out there in the cold. It gave him time to think about things. He could very well be burning out. It wouldn't surprise him. The whole year had been one thing after another. One tragedy, one fight, one sociopath, one near death experience after another.

And a vacation sounded so good. He hadn't had one of those in a while. Not since before he was taken. Not since 2002. It had been three years since he last took a break from the job. It had been with Naomi, after his second battle of wills with Nicole Wallace. He wondered if Alex had ever been to Jamaica. Even though he wasn't a huge fan of the beach, he didn't mind being there with her, taking in some much needed sun and warm weather.

A gush of cold wind hit him hard and he shivered. Getting up, he went to his car and got in. There was no sense freezing his ass off on the steps when he could sit in his car and keep warm. He got in the driver's seat and turned on the ignition and then the heat. Cracking the window, he sat in his car and watched the front of the house as he continued to smoke and think.

On his second cigarette, he got tired of thinking and turned on the radio. Scanning the stations, he found one with something decent sounding and stopped it on that channel. He wasn't big on pop music from that entire decade, but, it was slightly better than talk radio.

He got halfway through his second cigarette before he had enough of the music, he went to turn it when a lyric, and the voice, grabbed his attention. He had no idea who the singer or the band was, but he leaned back in the seat and listened, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

Bobby rubbed at his head as he stared up at the window and saw the light go out. Closing his eyes, he thought of Alex. He thought of their relationship and everything he hadn't or couldn't tell her but wanted to. He sat listening to the whole song, feeling the words and wanting nothing more than to get out of that car and be with Alex. Stuffing the cigarette out in the tray, he turned the car off and got out; the whole time the song lyrics replay in his head.

"_Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry. You don't know how lovely you are._

_I had to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I set you apart."_

Going up the steps to the door, he finally raised his hand and knocked.

"_Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions. Oh, let's go back to the start."_

The door opened and Alex stared up at him as he stared down at her. She smiled and moved toward him as he pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry," he told her even though he didn't have to. He didn't know what he was sorry for. Everything?

Alex held him tighter, pulling him to her. She started to shake a little and that worried him. Pulling away, he saw she was crying.

"What-"

Shaking her head, she rubbed at her eyes, telling him, "It's nothing. What're you doing here, I thought…"

"_Running in circles, coming up tails, heads on a science apart."_

Bobby stared down at her, shaking his head as he said, "I wanted to see you. I've missed you," before leaning down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

"_Nobody said it would be easy. It's such a shame for us to part. Nobody said it was easy. No one ever said it would be this hard."_

Alex responded to the kiss, pulling him tighter against her as he backed her further into the living room. "Bobby," she breathed out as he broke the kiss on her lips as he lifted her up.

"_Oh, take me back to the start."_

She wrapped her legs around him as he licked over her neck, nipping at the spot he knew caused her to squirm. "Wait, wait…Nate."

"Where is he?" he asked without taking his lips off her skin.

"Asleep, in the guest room."

Bobby pulled away and smiled up at her, "Good," he said before reclaiming her lips.

"_I was just guessing at numbers and figures, pulling the puzzles apart. Questions of science, science and progress, did not speak as loud as my heart."_

Going over the couch, he hit his leg against the coffee table and caught the yelp barely.

Alex started laughing as she put her finger up to her lips, telling him to, "Shhhh."

Chuckling, he lowered himself onto it with Alex straddling his lap. She stopped complaining as she gave into him, responding his to roaming hands and kissing lips. She was equally as active as she kissed over his face, his ear, then his neck as he leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch.

"_Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me…"_

He leaned up, taking her with him as he pulled her blouse off, exposing her tank-top underneath. As he rubbed up against her, causing her to hitch and bite back a loud moan, he started to chuckle at the two of them, making out on her sister's couch.

"_Oh, what a rush to the start. Running in circles, chasing our tails, coming back as we are."_

Alex started laughing with him as she said, "Oh, God, I hope Terry doesn't walk in on us."

Bobby smiled as he kissed her fully and deeply as he cupped one of her breasts through her tank-top. "Love you so much," he whispered to her as he pulled back to pull her closer. "Missed you so much."

"_Nobody said it was easy. Oh, it's such a shame for us to part."_

"I love you too," she told him as she slid a hand to down his chest. She pulled his button-down off first then his t-shirt. "Missed you today."

"_Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be so hard."_

Taking the bottom of her tank-top in hand, he pulled it off. Leaning forward, he starting kissing over her chest, over her bra, feeling her hand go to his belt.

"_I'm going back to the start."_

TBC…

The song? 'The Scientist' by Coldplay. All praises goes to them, especially Chris Martin. If you have never heard it, please, go take a listen.


	14. Friday, February 18th, 2005 pt1

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I enjoy the long reviews for my long chapters, they make me happy.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Bobby felt her hand on his belt, sliding the leather through the buckle and then she pulled away.<p>

"What was that?" she whispered.

He struggled to hear what she was hearing, but at the moment all he could hear was the rush of blood in his head. Bobby went to say he didn't hear anything when headlights poured through the blinds.

Alex smacked him hard on the chest as she said, "Terry's home," in a whispered yell as she quickly moved off his lap.

He bent to pick up his t-shirt as Alex went for her tank-top, knocking her head into his. "Ow!"

Alex hissed in pain as she grabbed her head and then her tank-top. "Be quiet," she whispered as she shoved him again.

"Hey, stop shoving me," he teasingly warned as he pulled on his t-shirt.

Alex glared at him and pointed as she made her way toward the hallway. "Don't give us away."

"What's he going to do? Tell our parents," he said with a laugh as he heard the key in the lock. Bobby quickly grabbed his button-down shirt and dropped it on his lap the moment the door opened.

Terry walked in, head down as he sat his briefcase just inside the door and then turned to lock it. He was pocketing his keys, and pulling out his cell phone as he turned around. He jumped back, banging against the door as he saw him sitting on the couch. As he realized it was him, he breathed out and said, "Bobby, what're you doing sitting in the dark?"

He shrugged as he looked toward the hallway. "Uh, Alex, she's…uh, babysitting Nate. I uh, I decided to, you know…drop by."

Terry gave him a funny look as he started for the kitchen. "Are you staying?"

Bobby rubbed at his head as he shifted on the couch, feeling it okay to actually move again without feeling the pressure between his legs. "No, I'm not staying. Well, I mean…I don't know. I didn't want to stay at the apartment."

"Because Alex's not there," Terry said as he plugged up his cell phone and disappeared around the corner.

"That, and, uh…Because of what happened. It was…We had a break-in."

"Oh, wow, are you two okay?" Terry asked as he quickly came back into the room with a beer in his hand.

"Yeah," he said, giving a nod. "We're cops so…" Bobby really didn't know where he was going with that, so he stopped going with it. After a moment, he pointed behind him, saying, "Alex is lying down with Nate. He's asleep."

Terry smiled a little. "Want a beer?"

He could definitely go for something cold right about then. Bobby shrugged as he went to stand but felt his belt loose. "Uh, could you grab me one while I…I have to use the bathroom."

Terry gave him another look, this one full of amusement before turning to head into the kitchen. Bobby quickly jumped up and headed toward the hallway. He looked in on the guest room and saw Alex sitting on the edge of the bed, staring the TV. She had her tank-top back on but not her blouse. And then he realized it was still in the living room. Closing his eyes, he looked down and refastened his belt as she looked over at him.

He could see the amused glint in her eyes too as she mouth, "We're busted."

Bobby chuckled as he gave an indifferent shrug. He didn't care, not really. Gesturing for her to join them, he went back into the living room but continued on into the kitchen.

Terry handed him a beer as he smiled a little, that amused look hadn't disappeared. "You're looking flushed."

He took the beer and said, "It's, uh…kind-of warm in here," before downing half the bottle.

"I bet," Terry said with a knowing look. When Alex walked in, he gave her a cheeky grin as he said, "Been making out with the boyfriend while mom and dad are away?"

Alex rolled her eyes, saying, "Grow up, Terry."

He laughed as he leaned against the counter. "If you two want to be alone, the car's outside. It's probably been awhile since you had any backseat action."

Alex walked over and socked him on the shoulder, making him laugh and Terry yelp in pain. "Knock it off."

"Okay, okay, I give," he said with a chuckle. Terry opened the refrigerator and pulled other beer out. "Want one?"

"What the hell," she said as she took the bottle.

Bobby leaned over the kitchen island as he felt the exhaustion catch up with him. The last surge of energy he had left had dissolved the moment Terry pulled up in his car. Rubbing over his head, he took another sip off the bottle as he tried to will his body and mind to stay awake a little while longer.

Over forty-eight hours of no sleep…He was ready to crash.

"Bobby, why don't you go lie down, man. You look ready to-"

He slumped against the island as his vision grayed then blackened. His legs give out from under him before he felt the floor then the pain from hitting it too hard.

"Bobby!" Alex said as she knelt over him.

He could barely focus as the room spun and blurred around him. Shaking his head, that only seemed to make things worse. Terry was there in front of him and he felt a hand on his neck, on his wrist.

"Pulse is-"

Whatever was said next, he didn't hear it. Bobby's eyes slid closed as he lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>"Help me get him on the couch," Terry told her as she returned from the bathroom with a cold washcloth.<p>

Alex tossed it on the counter and processed to help Terry lift Bobby. It was no easy task, the man was built big and he was heavy, but they managed to get him on his feet and over to the couch with a lot of huffing and puffing, a few hits against the coffee table and Bobby was finally on the couch, fast asleep.

"I can't believe he fainted like that," Terry said as he took a breath and stood.

"I can," Alex told him as she headed back to the kitchen. "I know it's been over two days since he last slept, and before then I couldn't tell you how many hours he'd gotten, but my guess would be four or less every night." Picking up the damp washcloth, she went back over to Bobby and patted it over his forehead and face, and then his neck.

Terry sat down on the coffee table as he told her, "His pulse was erratic."

Alex reached for Bobby's wrist and checked it as she looked at his watch. After a moment, she said, "Yeah, it is a little fast and jumpy. He smells like smoke, cigarettes will do that."

Terry chuckled as he said, "If you two had done it, he would've passed out a second after."

Alex smacked him on the leg, causing him to laugh harder. "This isn't funny."

"Yes, it is," he said as he got up and went back into the kitchen. "I'm making pizza."

Alex looked back down at Bobby asleep and found herself smirking. Shaking her head, she finally laughed herself. Getting up, she went back into the kitchen and picked up the beer bottle off the island and tossed it. At least Bobby had let go of it before he fell. Finding her bottle on the counter, she picked it up and watched as Terry pulled down a frozen pizza.

Looking over at her, he said, "I've got cheese, meat lovers, and pepperoni."

"Pepperoni," she told him as she sat down at the kitchen table.

As Terry got the pizza ready and stuck it in the oven, she couldn't help but think about Liz being gone every night when Terry got home. Then he was gone when she got home after shift in the morning. They never saw each other anymore. "Are you doing okay, Terry? You and Liz, you two working this whole thing out?"

His smile faltered a little and she could see the pain in his eyes, and the uncertainty. Terry barely gave anything away, he liked to keep everything close to his chest, especially if he viewed it as a weakness, but the man had his tells. "We're working on it," he finally said as he took a sip of the beer and sat down at the table across from her.

She really liked Terry. Him and Liz would be married for six years in May. Terry had one blood sibling, a sister who lived in Los Angeles who he talked to over the phone or on-line, but hardly ever saw. Since meeting him eight years ago, two years before he married Liz, Terry had quickly become like a brother to her. And they were all close in age so Terry had spent more time with her than with any other in-law, except maybe aside from Junior.

The man also had the same mustache for eight years. He wore it like a badge of honor. She remembered once Liz threatening to cut it off during a fight between the two of them, Terry had quickly conceded. The man didn't look half bad with it, Tom Selleck-ish, but not so eighties. Terry was a hair shy of six foot, thin, lean. Wiry would be the best way to describe him. Dark hair that was starting to grey and blue eyes. She admitted that he was actually pretty darn cute.

He had reached up and undid his tie and the top buttons of his dress shirt as he leaned back in the chair. Unlike Liz, Alex knew she couldn't press Terry for information. When he wanted to talk, he'd talk. Terry was usually a laid-back guy, really relaxed and nothing ever seemed to bother him. He was always smiling, always laughing or making a joke to break the tension in the room in order to get everyone calmed down again.

Terry wasn't much of talker though. He was so quiet most of the time. More of the listening type, but when he did say something, it was usually something important or something really funny. He also went along with anything. She could always count on dragging Terry out to banquets and fundraisers or 'walk for a cure' 5k's when no one else could go. She had dragged him out while she was pregnant many times since Bobby was always working. During those times, they had gotten close. They had learned a lot about one another.

That was why she knew something was wrong. Despite his joking behavior at them being caught making out on his couch, she could tell he was stressed. She could tell that something was really bothering the man, and that everything wasn't okay in his little world.

Reaching over, she put her hand on his and gave it a little squeeze. It caused him to bring his dark blue eyes up from his intense stare at the table. At seeing the look in his eyes, she softly smiled, telling him, "You know you can always talk to me, right? Or someone else in the family?"

Terry gave her a curt nod and half a smile, one that never reached his eyes, as he said, "Thanks, Alex, for coming by today. I know Nate loved it and we appreciate it. You and Angie both, just knowing you two are here to take care of Nate, that's a huge help."

"We're still going for a boat trip once it gets warm?"

Terry smirked as looked out the sliding door next to the table. The boat he'd bought for Christmas was out there in the backyard. "First nice spring day we get, it's a date."

Letting go of his hand, she picked up her beer and took a sip. The smell of baking cheese and pepperoni filled the room, causing her to hum in pleaser as the timer to the oven beeped. She got up to take down some plates as Terry opened the oven to take out the pizza. He dished them out a couple of slices before going back over to the table.

They ate in silence as the minutes stretched on. Alex looked over at him as she picked at her third slice, pulling a pepperoni off and popping it into her mouth. "I bet you and Liz haven't had a night alone to yourselves in months, huh?"

He chuckled a little as he said, "We haven't had a dinner for two since Nate was born, unless you count frozen entrees, baby food and Scooby Snacks."

Alex laughed as she shook her head. The life of a parent, she thought. It really did change a person. Terry used to only listen to classic rock, blues, some pop, and surprisingly even hip-hop in his car. She remembered threatening to throw his Nelly CD out of the car once because he was addicted to it. Then, a few weeks ago she rode with him and Nate to pick Liz up from an appointment and the man was listening to some kids CD, _Kidz Bop _or something. The funny thing was that Terry knew every single word to all the songs.

When Terry caught her staring at him, he just smiled and shrugged, saying, "Nate won't listen to anything else, he'll cry the moment I turn it off. I can't deal with him crying the whole way, Alex," he said in a mocking, teasing tone that reminded her of Liz as he gestured to his chest. It made her laugh.

Before, every time she came over for a visit the TV would be tuned into the news or ESPN or some medical show Liz watched, but now it was constantly on Mickey Mouse, Scooby-Doo, Sponge Bob, or some PBS kids show that made her head hurt. Talking pet store animals and the freaking Telly Tubbies. What in the heck were those things supposed to be anyway?

Looking over at him, she said, "If you two ever get a night off at the same time, I'll be happy to watch Nate. You two need adult time together. You need to go on a date, get out to a restaurant that's not filled with kids and clowns."

Terry looked over at her as he said in a fake pout, "But I like the clowns."

Alex chuckled at him and felt some of her tension ease. Terry seemed back to normal for the moment, and maybe it had all just been the stress from work. Now that he was home, and had wound down, he could relax. But still, she would keep her eye on her brother-in-law. It was the least she could do.

They were both startled when they heard someone walk into the kitchen. Jerking her head, she was surprised to see it was Bobby. He looked as if he were still asleep, running his hand through his hair as he shuffled over to the stove. His shoes were off, something she nor Terry had done, as well as his belt. Stopping at the stove, he picked up a slice of the now cold pizza and then turned around and shuffled back around the corner as he took a bite.

She looked over at Terry who looked over at her and they both started laughing.

"Wow," Terry said as he continued to chuckle. "He's really out of it."

"I don't know whether to be concerned or glad that he's okay, and eating. The smell must have woken him." Alex finished off her last slice before rinsing her plate and finding a spot in the full dishwasher. "You should run this tonight."

"Yeah, I was going to do that." Terry put his plate in it as well and then added the soap before closing it. He turned it on before they left the kitchen.

Bobby was sitting on the couch, slowly eating the slice of pizza and staring at nothing. Alex stopped to look at him as Terry wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She turned and gave him a hug before he pulled away.

"I'll put Nate in his room so you and Bobby can have the bed," he said as he started for the hallway.

Alex gave a nod as she told him, "Thanks, Terry. Sleep well."

"You too, Alex," he said as he gave her a smile over his shoulder before disappearing into the guest room to get his son.

Walking over the couch, she sat down beside Bobby and leaned into him. He responded by putting his arm over her shoulder and pulling her close.

"Are you conscious?" She felt him shift as he got closer to her, but didn't answer. He pushed his knee against hers, and that brought a smile to her face. He may not have been fully conscious at the moment, but he was there with her.

After he was done eating, they got up. Bobby headed toward the bathroom while she to the guest room. She crawled under the covers and looked at the TV that was still on. Shaggy and Scooby were running around a haunted lake shore, shaking and shivering from fear but she knew that at the end they would be the heroes of the cartoon, capturing the ghosts purely by accident. Picking up the remote she started to surf through the channels as she waited for Bobby.

He shuffled in a few minutes later and shut the door. Bobby sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled off his pants and then his t-shirt. She shifted on the bed and pulled the covers back for him as he turned and rolled on the bed toward her. Getting under the covers, Bobby wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his warm body as he buried his head in her neck, giving her a kiss against her skin, and then sighed into the pillow. Seconds later he was out again, breathing heavily and deeply in his sleep.

Giving him a kiss on his head, then over his forehead, she held him close as she took in a news report from earlier that evening. Watching the cops search and canvass a neighborhood in Long Island, she saw it was about a missing girl. Then the name and a picture was put up on screen and her breath caught in her chest.

Closing her eyes, Alex rubbed over Bobby's head as she realized what he'd been doing all day. Chloe Elise Patterson was missing, and possibility taken by Caleb Cunningham. They were both still missing, both still out there somewhere. Her only hope was that Caleb didn't decide to turn his anger on Elise. She hoped that they would find the girl alive.

* * *

><p><em>It was cold; colder than he would've ever thought Korea could get. When he first arrived in country, it was hot. Jungle hot from the humidity that seemed to suck the breath right out of him every time he stepped outside. Now, it was cold. Germany cold, and Germany got damn cold. Colder than New York. <em>

_So the moment he got into the car, he turned the heat on full blast and relaxed against the seat as another man, Sergeant Rahim, got into the driver's side. They were finally taking a break from working all night on the task force, trying to track down a serial killer on the loose in South Korea. The reason they were the ones working it was because the killer was believed to be one of their own. A soldier. They had needed help, and so they got cooperation from the FBI who loaned out one of their Forensic Psychiatrist, Special Agent Declan Gage. _

_At the moment, they were waiting on Declan before they could pull away from the building. All he wanted to do was eat and take a nap. They had two teams, Team A and Team B. Team A worked from six in the morning to six in the evening, and then that was when Team B took over. They worked from six at night to six in the morning. It was going on five months of that rotation, day-in and day-out. They got no weekends off._

_Checking the clock, he saw it was going on two in the morning._

"_Want to get some supper, partner?"_

_He looked over at Rahim and smiled slightly at the man. Sergeant Rahim was a little older than him and Muslim. The man's parents were born in the middle east, but had relocated to South America after they'd married. That was were Rahim had been born but not raised. Shortly after his birth, they had moved to America, to Central Florida. And at the moment, Rahim was his partner, and he had really come to like the man. He had a feeling that the two of them would be friends for a long time, even after the Army. They really got each other._

"_Sure."_

_The back door opened and he watched at Declan got in the back and shut the door._

"_Want to get something to eat, Dec?"_

_Declan immediately had his briefcase open as he pulled out the file on the case. The man seemed to ignore the question, or he hadn't heard it, as he focused on the file in his lap._

_Looking over at Rahim, they both chuckled and shook their heads. The car pulled away from the curb and they were on their way to a restaurant that actually had a decent menu. It had taken him awhile to get used to Korean food, but now he found he actually craved it on occasion._

_They were stopped at a red light when the call came in over the radio. Their killer had been spotted, and it was happening at the moment. A kill was going down right then as Rahim hit the gas, running the red light. _

"_Suspect is armed," the dispatcher announced over the radio. "Last seen running from the scene, gun in hand."_

_They weren't far from the scene, only a mile and a half. It took them less than four minutes to get there and the moment the car turned the corner, he saw him running._

"_There!"_

_Rahim hit the breaks long enough for him to jump out of the car. Then he was running, hard and fast. The guy was a soldier, not only could he tell from his build and hair cut, but because he recognized him. They had suspected Corporal Darrin Ackerman for months but could never prove it was him. Now they had caught the guy red-handed._

_Ackerman lead him on a four block chase, running down back alleys and side streets, taking him on a maze of blind spots and no light as they got further and further from the main street. There was no way Rahim could have followed in the car._

_He was alone. It was just him and Ackerman. Him and the serial killer. Ackerman took a turn to the right and he followed, running right into a dead end. Pulling his gun, he yelled at Ackerman, "Military Police! Hands up! Let me see 'em! UP!"_

_Ackerman was backed against a loading dock gate. He was huffing and puffing for air as he held his hand high. But then, he started to reach slowly down._

_God, don't do it, he thought as he yelled again, "Don't move! Put your hand back up!"_

_Ackerman kept going for it, reaching behind his back. Looking straight into the killer's eyes, he saw the pure hate there, burning. Ackerman hated him for catching him. He hated him for chasing and cornering him. He hated him so much, he wanted to kill him._

_Given the chance, Ackerman would shoot him. He knew that because he saw it there. He had helped Declan to profile the man before him._

"_Put your hand up! Above your head! Don't make me shoot you!"_

_Ackerman had his hand behind his back now, grabbing something, ready to pull it out. Was it the gun? Did he still have it? He didn't know because he couldn't see his back in the dark when they had been running. It was cold, Ackerman was wearing a thick black jacket._

"_Stop! Don't do it! Don't!" he yelled as Ackerman whip his arm around. "NO!"_

_He fired._

_Ackerman's body jerked back, stumbled slightly forward and then dropped. _

Bobby stirred into consciousness with the feel of sunlight on his face, a very warm and slender body in his arms. Pulling the body closer, he shifted against her, nestling his slightly trembling body against hers. Trying to get that memory out of his head, he kissed her shoulder. Alex mumbled something in her sleep as he trailed his fingers under her tank-top, along her stomach.

His left arm was useless at the moment; it was numb and trapped under Alex's body, but he paid it no mind as his lips left her shoulder and found her neck. Alex sighed and shifted, pushing her ass harder into him, making him moan as he nipped at her jaw. He felt her arm come up to run through his hair.

She sighed, "Good morning."

Smiling into her neck, he said, "Mmm, a wonderful morning," before he licked and then sucked on her neck. He kissed a few more times on her neck, and then her jaw, before holding her close and taking a moment to breathe. As he continued to caress over her skin, he said, "I think we could both use a vacation."

Alex hummed in agreement then said, "I agree. What'd you have in mind?"

"Warm weather…sunlight…doing nothing but making love to you for hours. That about covers it."

"Sounds pretty damn good to me," she said as she rolled over onto her back as her lips found his.

Bobby deepened the kiss as his hand slipped further up, fondling and filling up her breast. Breaking the kiss from her lips, he started on her neck again as he leaned over her. Alex raised her leg up between his legs, igniting an intense pressure between his legs. He hummed into her neck, enjoying the feel as he heard the door open.

Finally opening his eyes, he looked toward the spot where the door was supposed to be. There was no door, but a window…_What the?_

He took in the beige color walls and the ceiling fan, the TV, and then he rolled over and looked to the cracked door. There was no one there but something was pulling the sheets down. And then he saw ten little fingers trying to grip the top of the mattress. Nate was trying to scurry up the side of the bed. If he hadn't been so eager and in the mood to make love, he would have been amused.

Turning back to Alex, he groaned and breathed into her neck as he felt her start to laugh. "This is the second time we're been interrupted," he mumbled and finally laughed as he felt the bed bounce. Nate had made it up. "See, this is why we don't have kids."

Alex continued to laugh as Bobby was attacked by the too happy of a little boy who pounced on his back.

"Bop! Bop! Un' Bop go zoom!"

Bobby rolled over, knocking Nate off of his back and onto the other side of Alex. He rolled back over, off of Alex as he breathed out deeply and closed his eyes. Counting to ten, he felt the bed bounce as Nate pounced again. He let out a 'oomph' of air as Nate jumped on his stomach. Picking the boy up off his abdomen, he looked over at Alex. "What's zoom?"

Shaking her head, she said, "I have no idea, but it's his new favorite word. I think he's obsessed with cars. You and him are going to love each other." Alex gave him a kiss and then got out of bed. "I need coffee."

Nate leaned down and smacked his cheeks before trying to give him a kiss. It was a hard press of little lips to his cheek before he sat back and started clapping. He couldn't help it as he smiled at the little boy and gave him a kiss right back.

"C'mon," he said as he rolled out of bed with Nate in his arms. "Let's see where your father's at and why he's not the one being pounced on early in the morning."

The reason Terry wasn't the one woken up was because he wasn't home. He peeked into the master bedroom and saw Liz asleep. Going into the kitchen, he watched as Alex poured two cups of coffee.

Handing him one, she asked, "Why are you holding him like a football?"

Bobby looked down at the kid tucked under his arm and shrugged. "He seemed to enjoy it," he said before setting Nate down on the floor. "So, who usually watches Nate in the morning?"

"His mom."

Bobby glanced at the clock and saw it was almost nine. "Then why's she asleep?"

"Because I was here. I told her before she left last night to not worry about being up when Nate woke up. She works seven to seven. Terry leaves at eight-thirty. So she has to come home to be with Nate until Angie gets here. She then gets in some sleep before doing it all over again."

Bobby took a sip of the coffee as he gave a nod. "Okay, I get that you want to give her a break, but we have to get into work ourselves."

"I already talked to Deakins, he's letting me take the morning and I can come in after noon to get whatever work I need to do done before the weekend. I'm not on rotation this-"

"I know, Logan told me yesterday." Bobby rubbed at his neck, feeling a knot in it. "Then, uh…I've got to go." He took a couple more drinks from the coffee before heading back into the guest room.

He sat the cup down on the nightstand as he picked up his jeans and slipped them on and then his t-shirt. Then he went back into the living room, finished off the coffee before sitting on the couch to pull on his shoes and belt. The button-down shirt was slung over the side of the couch; he grabbed it and pulled it on but didn't bother buttoning it as he looked around for anything else. His jacket. It was by the door. He didn't even remember taking it off, or if Alex took it off him. Rubbing his head, he went over to the door and picked up his jacket.

Alex came back into the living room with Nate on her hip and chewing on some kind of breakfast cereal bar. At the sight of them, and how it seemed so domesticated, he stared for a moment and slightly smiled in amusement.

She asked in confusion, "What're you smirking at?"

Going over to her, he just shook his head as he lean down and gave her a kiss. Bobby gave a wave as he headed for the door. "I'll call you later, love you," he told her before he closed the door and headed to his car.

* * *

><p><em><span>Special Victims Unit<span>_

He had swung by the apartment before heading into work and took a quick shower and changed into a suit as he let his cell charge on the counter in the kitchen. By the time he shaved, got dressed, and waiting for his phone to charge some more, it was almost noon. Walking through the living room, he had looked toward Polly's cage as something hit him. The reason why he had been so concerned with Patterson's cat.

He had walked over the cage and peered in. Polly was at the bottom of the cage, picking at its feathers. The bird was still alive but he opened the cage and pulled out the food and water. In the kitchen he had dumped the water in the sink but dumped the food on the counter. Mixed in with the seeds he saw small green bits…Rat poison. He wiped the food into the trash and then refilled the little food tray with seeds.

Staring at the bird that chirped happily as it flew in the cage, Bobby wondered if the bird knew its food had been poisoned. It was still alive after two days. Or, he could have picked around the poison and ate only the seeds. Lucky bird.

He had finally left the apartment with a fully charged phone around twelve-thirty. A block from the precinct, he stopped at a vender on the corner and got two bags full of grilled burgers and Italian sausages, potatoes, peppers and onions, and four sides of coleslaw. He also got a carrier with four big sodas.

Walking into the SVU squad room, he spotted everyone there looking tired, pissed off and hungry. He'd been right, no one had left yet to grab food. Bobby approached Stabler and Benson's desk as they both turned to look at him. At the sight of the bags and carrier in both his hands, they looked ready to declare him the best damn detective in the world.

"Goren brought food," Benson called out as she grabbed a drink and then a thick burger out of the bag.

"Hey, thanks, Bobby," Elliot said as he took an Italian sausage, foil wrapped helping of potatoes, and a side of coleslaw. "You're a lifesaver, man."

Fin hurried over and took what he wanted as he slapped him on his back. "I knew there was a reason I liked you so much."

"It couldn't be because I'm a great op, could it?"

"Nah, there are tons of great cops, but excellent cops bring food," Fin seriously told him before going over to his desk.

Bobby took what was left over to his desk and sat down. He got the last soda, Italian sausage, potatoes, and slaw. Taking out a wrapped package of utensils, he pulled out the fork and started eating. He was starving; the only thing he had since lunch yesterday was that one slice of pizza last night.

"So," Stabler said as he leaned back in his chair to look over at him. "Even though Elise could very well be socio-boy's girlfriend, I don't see her being his spy."

Bobby gave a nod as he said, "I didn't say she was. I had thought it, that maybe his girlfriend could've been, but once I realized it was her…I knew it couldn't have been. Yeah, he probably got information from her. And like I said, she could have told him about me, about Bobby the police officer coming over. Caleb's not an idiot, he would have figured it out. But still…he used her. And someone else helped him by keeping tabs on me."

"Speaking of which," Benson said as she brought up the straw to the soda to take a drink. "We called the high school, two of Caleb's friends were absent both yesterday and the day before. Shen and Deshi Lee, they're twins."

"I bet the Yin Yang twins are his skater friends," Fin said. "The ones he met up with at the park after he got back from going into Queens. Ever find out what that was about?"

Bobby glanced over at Fin but didn't answer. Talking about Frank wasn't something he wanted to do, especially with them. Frank, even though he did him wrong, was still his brother. He didn't want the detectives to hate Frank, or to know anything about his brother. He took a long sip of the soda before finishing off his food. He tossed the trash away and pulled out the notepad from his suit jacket pocket. He started copying everything from it into his binder as he let the case run through his head as he did so.

"We've also been getting tons of phone calls. You know how it goes, people will be spotting Caleb and Elise from here to Jersey," Elliot told him but he never looked up. "We got patrols checking out some of them, but the more solid ones we're doing ourselves. I just got a call from a shopkeeper in Chinatown who claimed he saw the both of them outside his store about half an hour ago."

The phone on his desk shrilled to life. Bobby picked it up mid-ring, answering, "Special Victim's, this is Detective Goren."

"Bobby, finally, I've been trying to track you down since yesterday, my man."

Smiling into the phone, he continued to copy his notes as he said, "Jeff. What's going on? What'd you got for me?"

"I got that phone. My flags have been flying high since yesterday when it came to life. I've spent the whole day working it, breaking into the trace."

Bobby stopped writing as he looked up from his binder. "Do you have a location, a number?"

"I have it all, I didn't want to email you because I didn't know where you were."

"No, I'm still here, just a different department…What's the location?" he asked as he wrote down the location of the calls and the number it originated from on the notepad. "Jeff, I owe you."

"Don't I know it. Good luck, and hey, I need your signature on a petition and a sizable donation."

"Anything, just send it to my email, alright," Bobby told him before hanging up the phone. He stared at the location of the new calls from the unknown cell that had been used on the day ADA Gardner was killed, and rubbed at his head.

This didn't make any sense. He was missing something. A big something.

"Hey, Bobby, want to go with me to check out that tip in Chinatown?" Elliot asked as he was pulling on his coat while heading toward the door.

Bobby looked over at the him as he tore the sheet off the notepad and stuck it into this pocket. "Sure," he said as he got up and grabbed his overcoat.

"We'll take the SUV," Elliot said as he tossed him the keys.

Bobby caught the keys but tossed them right back as he told him, "You're driving."

As they exited the precinct, a light fall of thick flakes of snow was coming down, slicking the roads and coating the ground.

* * *

><p><em><span>8 12 Pell Street_

_Chinatown, Manhattan_

Bobby stood under a red and white canopy outside of the restaurant, Famous Sichuan, as Mr. Wong told them about seeing four young kids standing outside on the street. Two were Chinese, twins, the other two were white. A boy and girl who matched the description of Caleb and Elise. As Elliot pulled out his phone to call for a patrol unit, he took in the street. It was one he'd been too often whenever he was in the mood for their food.

The entire block was filled with multicolored signs lining both sides of the street, advertising in both Chinese and English. Next door to the restaurant he was standing at was a business selling plane tickets and cruises which got him thinking again about taking a vacation. Across the street was a law office, Joe's Shanghai, Chung Wah Beauty Salon, above the salon was a business advertising Chinese Art Supplies and Framing.

Alex liked the tea shop that was across the street and below 'Quickly', a pizza parlor. The door to the pizza place was off the street, but the entrance to the tea shop was down a set of steps literally built into the sidewalk that went down below the buildings. It looked like you had to walk down into a dungeon. The tunnels went all the way to behind the buildings; they were the only way of getting back behind the buildings from the street.

Following the line of brick buildings, mostly red brick, he noticed that on the north side of the street they were all connected and stretched on for about two, three blocks. Looking up, he saw the fire escapes on the front of all the buildings, lining the block as decoratively and zigzagging as the store signs.

Turning around, he looked up the street as the signs stretched on for miles, and so did the buildings, fire escapes and people. Even though it was a cold Friday afternoon, the street was busy. Then, he spotted something. A lens. Smirking, he tapped Elliot on the shoulder.

Once he got his attention, he pointed toward the lens. "Security camera across the street," Bobby said as he started across the road. "It's pointed right at us."

He walked over to the door of the law office and pulled it open. Walking in, he took out his shield and showed it to the young man who was standing behind the desk. The man didn't look older than twenty, suit jacket, dress shirt and pants but no tie. He looked like a college kid working an intern job.

"I'm Detective Goren, with Major Case," he told the man as he approached the desk. "Do your cameras work?"

The man gave a nod, saying, "What'd you need, detective?"

Smiling, he said, "Footage from the last two hours."

"Follow me," he said as he lead him around the desk. The man opened a door and gestured into a room that wasn't bigger than a janitors supply closet.

Bobby saw a table in the small room with a computer and CC video surveillance system.

"I'll bring it up for you," the man said as he took a seat at the desk. "Not only am I Mr. Bradshaw's assistant and investigator, I'm also his only form of security." The man held out his hand, "Rick Nash, P.I."

Bobby looked at the young man and frowned. "How old are you?"

Rick smirked, "Thirty-two, I just look young."

Bobby shook the Private Investigators hand as he saw the video feed come up on the screen. The camera was banking back-and-forth up and down the street. He saw Elliot still across the street talking to two uniform officers sitting in their patrol car. Their backup if it was needed.

"Before I did this, I was in the Army."

"I'm former Army, myself. CID," Bobby told him causing Rick to smile up at him.

"The last two hours," Rick said as he turned back to the computer and searched through the footage, selecting time blocks from four rolls of past footage.

"This is nice," Bobby found himself saying. "How much did this system cost?"

"Five grand. Worth every penny."

"Did it come with alarms and sensors too, or just cameras?"

"The whole lot." Rick looked up at him, "You looking for something?"

Bobby gave a slight nod, saying, "My place was recently broken into…I've been thinking about getting a higher end security system."

Rick dug into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and then pulled out a card. "My brother sells them," he said as he handed him the card. "That's how I got it for five grand, he gave me a deal. For you, I'm sure I can get him to do the same."

Bobby smiled as he took the card and looked it over before pocketing it. "Thanks, man. Appreciate it."

"So, what're we looking for?" Rick asked as he brought up two rolls of four frozen stills of footage each.

Bobby noticed the time blocks for each were fifteen minutes. "So, the system breaks the footage up into fifteen minute sections?"

"That's what I set it as, but you can adjust it for preference. The minimum is fifteen the max, six hours," Rick said with a shrug.

"I'm looking for four kids hanging out across the street. Two twins, Chinese, the other two white, a boy and girl."

Rick clicked on the first fifteen minute blocks. They went through each block, fast forwarding through most of them until they came across the second footage during hour two.

"There," Bobby said as he pointed to the screen. The video was crystal clear and he could make out both Caleb and Elise. "Play that."

Rick let the footage play out in normal speed. He watched as the two met up with the twins and then a few minutes later they entered a door next to the restaurant, going to the apartments above the store on the first floor.

"Can you make a copy of this for me?"

"I can do one better," Rick said as he hit a few buttons. He brought up an email account and then asked, "I can send it to your email."

Bobby smiled and told him what it was as he took out his cell phone. "Keep playing that, I want to see if they ever came back out."

After he made the call to Captain Cragen, he watched the rest of the footage, fast-forwarding through them until he saw himself and Elliot pull up to the curb. They were still in the building, having never left. He thanked Rick again before quickly leaving the office.

Elliot was leaning against the patrol car as he crossed the street. "Well?"

"It's them," Bobby told him with a smile. "They're here, in one of these apartments."

"Great, now all we have to do is find out which one."

Elliot told one of the uniforms to stay on the ground while the other came with them. Bobby opened the red metal door that lead into the long narrow hallway that lead to stairs and a backdoor that went out to behind the buildings. There was no office off the hallway or any other door for that matter so he took the stairs up.

At the landing he saw a door marked in Chinese that read 'Manager' and knocked. It took a few bangs on the door for it to finally open and a short overweight Chinese man looking very pissed off stood in front of him.

"What'd want? I busy!" he yelled at him.

Bobby held up his shield and put his foot out as the man tried to shut the door in his face. His foot and leg stopped the door from closing but it seemed to anger the man even more.

He started going off on him in both Chinese and English and Bobby just waited the man out until he finally gave an angry bark, "What? I do nothing!"

Not thinking that the man would rent out a room to two white kids, he asked, "The twins, what room?"

"Who?" he said, trying to act dumb.

He hated when people did that. Bobby asked again, "Twin Chinese kids…the Lee's," he said, taking a shot at them being the twins that Caleb met up with. "Shen and Deshi."

At the mention of their names, the man seemed to deflate. "Next floor. 2C."

Bobby moved his foot away and let the man slam the door as he headed for the stairs.

As he approached the door, he drew his gun out from behind his back. A loud, heavy rock song could be heard playing through the door. It was thumping walls, the doors, and the floor. The same screaming lyrics repeated themselves over and over again between pounding drums, bass lines, and electric guitar riffs that just sounded like a mass of noise to him.

Bobby went to the left side of the door as Elliot took the right along with the uniform officer. He planted his feet wide apart before using the meat of his left hand the bang on the door. It thundered loud enough to be heard over the pounding music, causing Elliot to give him a smirk.

He remembered Logan once telling him on Staten Island that when he did that it sounded like Judgment Day coming. Today, it was coming for Caleb.

The moment the door moved, Bobby pushed it open while yelling out, "POLICE!"

The twin who had opened the door was shoved by him into the wall as Elliot went straight into the living room. Bobby turned the kid who was only wearing boxers and a wife beater around. Pinning him hard into the wall, he secured his gun before yanking the kids arms around his back. He pulled out his handcuffs and cuffed him as he heard Elliot yell for someone to get down over the blasting of music that was still thumping the walls and floor.

He handed the Chinese boy over to the uniform before he went further into the apartment. Elliot had the other twin down on the couch, knee in his back as he cuffed him. He gestured with his head toward his right, and when Bobby swept to the right he saw a closed door. The bedroom. Leaning up against the frame of the door was a sawed-off shotgun.

Bobby grabbed the weapon and tossed it to the uniform who emptied it. He saw the shells and knew that they were the ones taken from his apartment. Approaching the door, he went to the right and leaned his right side against he wall, pointing his gun toward the opening of the door, he reached out and felt the knob, it was loose. Gripping it, he slowly turned it as Elliot took up the left side of the door.

Bobby caught Elliot's eyes and gave a slight nod toward him. Elliot dropped down slightly, ready to go in at a lower position. Then he pushed the door open.

Elliot went in first sweeping left while he followed the doors momentum and went right. His eyes swept the bed in front of him, taking in the naked and bound body of Elise Patterson at the same moment he saw Caleb's body jump through the open window.

Bobby went right after him, knowing that Elliot or the uniform would take care of the girl while he went after Caleb. Out onto the fire escape he looked down and then up. Caleb was going up. He put his gun behind his back as he gripped the cold railing and started up the metal stairs, jerking around each landing before running up another flight. Where most fire escapes stopped at the top floor, this one had stairs that went up to the roof.

As he approached the roof, Bobby pulled out his gun, readying for anything as he slowed and carefully went the rest of the way to the top. Looking around, he saw Caleb still running, jumping over the low wall separator and onto the roof of the next building.

He took off after him, running as fast as he could over the slick, snow covered rooftop. Jumping over the low wall, he hit the other roof and kept going as he kept his eyes on Caleb the whole time. The kid was quick, faster than he was at forty-three years of age and the distance between them was getting bigger as Caleb darted around the roofs, knowing exactly where he was going.

His lungs were burning as he rounded a ventilation vent and watched as Caleb scaled a ladder to get onto the taller building's roof. Bobby had to jump to grab the first rung of the ladder. He caught it and started to pull himself up as he hurried to catch up. Getting onto the other roof, he took off once again as he spotted Caleb approaching the other side.

Just as he thought Caleb had nowhere to go, the kid jumped. Bobby slowed as he approached the side and looked down. Four stories below was the next roof, but one story below the ledge he was standing at was metal walkway. It had wrapped around from the fire escape on the front of the building. Caleb was on it running along the side of the building toward the back.

Bobby got up on the ledge of the wall and took a breath as he dropped down. He hit the metal walkway and stumbled into the railing, hitting his side and feeling a sting of pain in his ribs and a jolt in his leg. Groaning out in pain, he got to his feet and kept running. He couldn't lose Caleb, not now.

Running along the side of the building, he approached the back and saw that the walkway lead to another fire escape that went down the back of the building. Caleb was halfway down it as he hit the first landing. The snow was falling harder and he found himself slipping as he hit a patch of wet snow on the stairs. Caleb seemed to be having the same problem as he watched as he fell a few times. It gave him time to catch up but not by much. Caleb didn't take the ladder down to the ground as he gripped the side railing and hoisted himself up and over it, dropping down into a trash bin outside the back of a restaurant.

Bobby reached the last landing and hit the release for the ladder, making it drop down close to the ground before banging to a stop. He swung around the railing and started to climb down.

As he approached the last rung, he heard a shout coming from out of one of the dark tunnels that lead under the buildings. Elliot appeared out of the dark, coming up the stairs.

Caleb was heading right for him and before Elliot had his gun out, he attacked.

Bobby dropped to the ground, feeling the flare of pain spread from his right knee up his leg as he pulled out his gun. He didn't see how it happened, but he heard a high-pitched scream and Elliot was down.

Taking aim, he yelled at Caleb to stop before getting off one shot. Caleb kept running as Bobby approached Elliot's body. He was on the ground with his hands clenching a handle sticking out of the side of his neck and shoulder. A dagger.

Bobby dropped to the ground and pressed a hand to the sudden gush of blood pouring out between the embedded blade.

"Threw it," Elliot got out between tight gasps of air. "…didn't see…too late."

He heard more running and looked to see one of the uniform officers coming up from out of the tunnel. "Call for a bus," he yelled at him as he grabbed Elliot's hand and pressed it hard over the gushing blood. "I gotta get him," he told Elliot as he grabbed onto the hand that was latched onto his shirt, pulling him down.

Elliot eased his tight grip on his shirt, letting him go so he could get up. "…go…" he told him before his body started to shake.

Bobby got up and started to run in the direction Caleb went. He saw a drop of blood in the snow along with shoeprints and knew that he had hit the kid. Where the bullet struck him, he had no clue, but if he was bleeding then maybe it was slowing Caleb down. He followed the blood and prints over the snow as he headed further into the darkening shadows behind the tall buildings.

The drops and prints stopped and he looked around. He saw a shoe print going to the left. He took off to his left. A shadow of movement caught his eye and he watched as Caleb appeared from behind a wall and disappeared down below the building. He followed as he took off after him, yelling for him to stop. It was a waste of breath; he knew Caleb wouldn't.

The steps down into the tunnel was up ahead, dark and damp and he barreled down the steps into it as he tried to stay as close behind Caleb as possible as his leg and lungs screamed at him to stop. Red lights every few feet were the only light in the underground walkway. He could smell food frying, the fish and chicken, salt and soy that mixed to fill the tunnel.

Then he was running up the concrete steps and out into daylight and onto the sidewalk. Two delivery trucks were in front of him on the street, one to his left, the other right, and right in front of him on the other side of the street was Caleb who had tripped over a rack of 'I Love New York City' and Chinatown souvenirs. He darted right in-between the trucks, out on to the street, so tunneled vision on Caleb and desperate to get him that he didn't see the car until they collided.

The only thing he registered was the white and blue paint job, the light bar on the top, and the windshield he hit before the patrol car jerked to a stop, sending him sliding off the slick wet hood and onto the street. A jolt of pain flared in his arm as his vision blackened before everything blurred.

He was on his stomach, breathing deeply into the cold concrete of the street as his right side flared with pain that wrapped all the way around to his back. Everything looked blurry and nothing sounded right. His head buzzed and his ears rung with muffled sound. Groaning in pain, he rolled onto his back, breathing deeply and sharply, as he stared up at the grey sky, the tall buildings and snow.

As he laid there with snow falling on him, his first thought was wondering how fast had the patrol car been going when it had hit him. He read an article that said that the lowest speed a car could be going in a rear-end collision to cause human injury to the neck was 2.5 miles per hour. Serious injury to the neck was 5 miles per hour. However, the slowest speed a car could be going to cause damage to the rear bumper of a vehicle was 15 miles per hour. That was anywhere between 3 to 6 times the speed required to injure a human's neck.

In the police academy, when he had to qualify on driving a police car, he was told that the minimum speed to cause death to a human was 30 miles per hour. Injury started at 2.5, death occurred at 30. But still, depending on the situation, and the person, a 5 percent death rate occured at speeds as low as 20 miles per hour. As he thought about it, he didn't think the patrol car was going 20 miles per hour. It hadn't felt like it had been going that fast, it was probably more like ten.

It didn't really matter, he still fucking hurt like hell.

"Detective, oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? You ran right out in front of me. Detective? Can you hear me?"

Bobby blinked up at the two cops standing above him, seeing them for the first time as his vision cleared and sound rushed back in head-throbbing clarity. Wincing at the sound and pain, he went to move.

The cops helped him to his feet and as he stood felt a pain ignite in his leg. His right leg gave out and he stumbled against the car as he grabbed for his knee. He barely registered one of the cops calling for an ambulance as he was helped around to the back of the car by the woman officer.

Bobby leaned against the side of the car and closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain as the cop opened the trunk. She was talking about having a medical kit. He felt a sting on the back of his head. Reaching up he felt the back of his head and the stickiness of blood. Pulling his hand away, he saw his own blood mixed with what was there of Elliot's. Looking around the sidewalk and street, Caleb was nowhere in sight.

He had lost him.

* * *

><p><em><span>NYC Downtown Hospital<span>_

_Downtown Manhattan_

She rushed through the sliding doors into the emergency room, eyes searching frantically as she pushed passed the sick and injured and up to the nurses' desk. Flashing her shield, she went to speak when the nurse cut her off.

Pointing down the hallway to her left, the nurse said, "The cops who were brought in are down the hall, around the corner. Can't miss them."

Alex hurried down the hall and around the corner. She spotted Bobby pacing around the floor, limping slightly as he twisted his hands together. He was without his dress shirt and suit jacket, only wearing a white undershirt that had blood spots on it around his shoulder and chest area. Elliot's blood she presumed. Letting out a breath of air, she went over to him. He glanced over and saw her coming. He held out his arms as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I'm okay," he told her as he held her close.

She nodded as she felt his body trembling along with hers. Pulling away, she asked, "Elliot?"

Bobby grimaced and sighed, shaking his head. "They won't tell us anything. Doctors have been rushing around but…"

Alex looked over and saw the group of SVU detectives and their Captain, all looking eager and tired and pissed off at the world. Taking his right hand into hers, she looked at the fresh bandage with blood spots before he pulled it away.

"A couple of uh, stitches busted while I was chasing Caleb. They re-stitched it. I wasn't…" he swallowed hard before finishing, "worried about my hand, you know."

She gave a nod as she looked up at him. He looked pale and his breathing was rapid as his body shook. "You were hit by a car, Bobby, why aren't you getting checked out?"

"I already did that." He reached up and rubbed at his head and winced. "I've got a few cracked ribs and a gash on the back of my head that required five stitches. My knee's fucked again and it hurts to even stand, but I'm not the one with a dagger in my neck," he snapped.

Alex stepped back as he took a deep breath.

"Sorry," he apologized before walking away.

She watched him start to pace again and knew that trying to get him to calm down would be useless. Searching the cluttered waiting area, she spotted Liv standing in front of a closed door, staring into it. When she approached, she looked in the room and saw them working on Elliot. Blood was coating his chest and that was all she could see; that and his legs unmoving.

"Liv," she softly said.

Liv turned to her and said in a rush of air, "Alex," before giving her a hug.

"How is he?"

"I think they're prepping him for surgery," Liv told her as she let go before looking over her shoulder. "He's lost a lot of blood."

Alex gave a nod as she waited beside her friend as they all waited to find out the status of another. She heard a sound, a loud bang and when she look she saw Bobby stalking off down the hall. She didn't know what he hit, but she knew he hit something. Turning back to Liv, she grabbed her by the arm, pulling her from the door. "Come sit down. Want a cup of coffee or a soda?"

Liv reluctantly let her pull her over to a row of chairs. Sitting down, she closed her eyes and leaned back. "No, I don't need anything but thanks."

Alex sat next to her and as she looked around the waiting area, asked, "So, what exactly happened? Bobby told me a vague version of the truth. I learned about him getting hit when I pulled up. I heard a couple of patrols outside talking about it."

"They went to checkout a possible sighting in Chinatown. They found out that Caleb and Elise, along with two others who were Caleb's friends, were hiding out in an apartment. They got a patrol for backup and from there it gets iffy. They stormed into the apartment and cuffed the two friends but Caleb blotted. Elise was found in the bedroom," she hesitated as she took a breath. "That poor girl, Alex. She doesn't even understand that what he was making her do, that what they were doing to her, was wrong."

Alex winced as she understood without having to be told. "Where's she at now?"

"Here on another floor. Me and Fin were assigned to it since both Elliot and Bobby were injured. He's still up there with her father and brother. Bobby went up there after he got checked out. They're performing a rape kit on her and holding her for observations. She was bound pretty tight and…" Liv shook her head. "Anyway, when Caleb took off running, Bobby was the one who gave chase. Elliot stayed back to make sure Elise was okay before taking off after them. They were on the rooftops so El went down to the street. The uniform that was down there was at one corner so El went the other way." She took a breath and said, "After that all I know is that Elliot got a dagger in his neck and Bobby got a shot off, hitting Caleb but nothing too serious; at least we don't think. He got away."

"And sometime while Bobby was chasing Caleb, he got hit by a patrol car?"

"Another unit was responding to help and Bobby ran right out in front-" Liv stopped talking as the doors to the room opened and out walked a doctor.

They both got up and walked over to the man who had blood covering his scrubs. Alex looked around and saw Bobby standing back as he crossed his arms to wait to hear what the doctor had to say.

Once everyone was gathered around, the doctor addressed them. With a heavy sigh, he said, "He lost a lot of blood. We stabilized him for now but he's still in need of at least another pint or two, especially since he needs surgery. If we do it now, we're risking death."

"You don't have enough?" Captain Cragen asked.

The doctor shook his head. "Not of his blood type, no. He's O-Negative. He can only receive blood from another O-Negative blood type."

"Bobby's O-Negative," Alex said as she turned to look over at him, along with everyone else.

He didn't move, or speak as he swallowed hard.

"Bobby, you can donate-"

"I can't," he said in a soft whisper.

"What'd you mean you can't," Liv suddenly yelled as she turned to face him. "Elliot's dying in there and you can't donate to save his life!"

Bobby worked his jaw as he stared hard and her. He shook his head slightly before turning away.

"Bobby!"

"I said I can't," he shouted, causing everyone to tense up. Turning back to face her he said, "I would give anything to save his life but I can't!"

Alex started for him when he suddenly backed away, turned and then walked away.

TBC…


	15. Friday, February 18th, 2005 pt2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and they are very much appreciated! Okay, since I already ventured way over into the Alternate Universe with my series of stories, this chapter is about to take it one step further into the AU realm.

Okay, crazy chapter with a lot of stuff going on. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Walking out of the emergency exit, he shivered against the cold that hit him as he dug clumsily around in his pants pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. Standing out in the cold under the canopy where the ambulances pulled up to deliver the dying and injured, he lit the cigarette and took a long drag off it. Going over to a brick pillar and ignoring the no smoking sign, he leaned his back against it and stared out at the street, thinking.<p>

He felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw it was his mother. Sighing, he put it back in his pocket. He didn't feel like talking, especially not to her.

At hearing the sliding doors open, he looked up from staring around the street and saw Benson and Alex. Alex stood still staring at him, arms crossed and tense. Benson headed straight for him.

Bobby barely had enough time to react. He turned to face her as she shoved him hard in the chest and back into the brick pillar.

"You're such an asshole, Bobby! Elliot's in there needing help and you're refusing-"

"You think I'm refusing? You think that if I could that I wouldn't be sitting in there right now letting them drain every last drop out of me to save his life? I would in a second, but I can't! What part of '_can't_' don't you understand?" Bobby stared hard at her before he moved away. Pacing around the sidewalk, he glanced back over at the two women as he tried to calm himself down.

Alex seemed to realize something as she said, "There's something in the questionnaire that makes you ineligible."

"There's more than something," he said as he kept moving. "I've never been able to give blood since I served in the military in the '80's and early '90's because I lived over in Europe for years, in places like Germany and I spent more than three months in the UK…" he stuck the cigarette back in his mouth as he stopped pacing and took a long drag off the smoke. "Now…" he sighed as he closed his eyes and said, "Now I have to answer yes to the question, "Have you ever had sexual contact with a man at anytime from 1977 to now, even once?"…" Staring hard at her, he said, "The fact that it wasn't consensual, and would never happen again, doesn't matter…the American Red Cross has restricted me for life. I can never donate or give any part of myself to anyone, not blood, not plasma, or an organ…"

Alex was holding back and when he glanced over at her, he saw the worry in her eyes.

Taking another drag off the cigarette, he tried to calm down as he turned his eyes to the concreted walkway. "I mean…Fuck!" he snapped as he turned and paced away from both women. Benson had grown extremely quiet after giving him the third degree. Reality setting in, like it was for all of them. "What are the chances of him being O-Negative anyway? Only seven percent of the population is O-Negative. Any other blood type and it wouldn't even be an issue. O-Positive is the most common blood type, universal donor, and I bet they have shit tons of it!" He stopped his heated rant as he breathed out and stuck the cigarette back in his mouth.

"I'm sure they can get it from somewhere, another hospital or someone coming forward…" Alex said as she approached him, trying to calm him down. "He has time; he's stable."

"For now," Bobby said as he continued to move around. "He has a wife, Alex, kids…Why couldn't Caleb have thrown that thing at me?"

"Hey!" Alex said as she stepped up to him and gave him a hard shove. "Don't think that!"

"But if he had, and I was the one in there needing blood, Elliot would be the one donating to save my life instead of me out here with him in there!"

Alex shoved him again, making his leg hurt as he had to put it back behind him to stop himself from tripping backwards. "What's done is done, Bobby, you can't play this game of what if! Thinking that way isn't going to get you nowhere and you're already dealing with too much emotional bullshit as is. So shut the hell up!"

He stared down at her as she went off on him. Bobby gapped, trying to think of something to say. He had nothing to say to that. Alex had never told him off before; he was shocked. Taking a breath, he said, "Okay. I'll shut the hell up."

"Good," she said as she snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it away. "Now lets get back in there. I'm freezing my ass off." Alex grabbed his arm and pulled him around, jerking him toward the sliding doors and out of the cold.

Benson followed slowly behind.

Bobby glanced over his shoulder to her and pulled his arm away from Alex. Stepping up to Benson, he said, "I really am sorry, Benson. I would give him my heart if it meant saving his life…"

She gave a nod. "I know. I'm sorry for that. I wasn't thinking. I should've realized before, with you not being able-"

"It's okay. Not a lot of people know about those restrictions on blood donors unless they are the ones being turned down."

Suddenly, she pulled him into a hug that caught him completely off guard. Bobby hugged her back for a second before she pulled away.

"Even though you can act like a jerk sometimes, especially when you're angry, I forgive you."

Bobby smiled slightly as she walked away. He looked around and started for the cafeteria, telling Alex, "I'm going to grab a coffee."

"I'll come with you," she said as they started off down the hall.

They went to the café in the hospital and got themselves some coffee, Alex also grabbed a bagel and cream cheese along with a salad. Sitting down at a table in the corner, Bobby sipped on the coffee as Alex ate. He watched her for a long moment, not saying anything.

Watching her distracted him from the thoughts swirling around his head. It distracted him from picturing Elliot laying on the ground, covered in blood. It stopped him from thinking about the way Elliot's body started to shake right before he had to leave him. It stopped him from seeing that car, from the pain he felt when it hit him. Staring up at the grey sky, the cold snow falling on him, and thinking about the car and whether or not it was going fast enough to have killed him.

Alex looked up at him as she poked around her salad. "Liv told me what happened. You got a shot off. Do you think you hit him anywhere vital?"

Bobby blinked back from staring. It took him a moment to register what she'd asked. Giving a nod, he said, "He was bleeding, but…" he took a drink of the warm coffee and shook his head. "I got an APB out with all patrols and at all the hospitals and clinics, train and bus stations…the airport. It's, I mean sure it's made the news by now. Someone will see him and turn him in."

"He'll show up sooner or later," Alex said in agreement. "He's got nowhere to run. When you shot him, you used your own gun?"

Rubbing at his head, he nodded again. "IA wasn't too happy. Neither was Captain Cragen or the Chief. But, seeing how it was in defense of a-a, uh, a cop being seriously injured or killed…and the fact that I didn't kill Caleb, they're giving me leniency. Or else, I'm sure I'd be suspended right about now." Looking her over, he asked, "How, uh…how was your day?"

Alex raised her eyes at him. "My day? It was relatively quiet and okay until you called me."

Bobby stared at her and gave a nod before looking away. "Yeah, uh…s-sorry, about that."

"I wasn't saying it to accuse you. I know that none of this was your fault."

Bobby picked up his cup and took another drink as he looked around at the people in the room.

Awhile later, as they sat in chairs and waited to see if a blood donor would magically appear, Bobby watched as the doctor, Captain Cragen, Chief Yarrow, and Benson were all talking to Kathy Stabler and her family. She was trembling as they lead her and her children over to a group of chairs across the room. The guilt in his heart twisted deeper, sharper, as he took in the fear in the family's eyes. He wished he could save them from that look, from that fear, but couldn't.

He felt Alex wrap her arm around his waste. Leaning into him, she said, "That was huge; what you said earlier."

"What was?" he mumbled as he looked away from the family and at the cup in his hands that was half-empty with lukewarm coffee.

"Admitting what happened to you."

Bobby peered over at her. "Had to. The moment that doctor mentioned that Elliot had my same blood type, and then you told everyone that I was a match…It hit me like a punch in the gut. I thought about the restrictions and…" letting out a breath, he said, "And I could no longer ignore it, you know."

"Such a lousy way to be forced to admit something like that. Now you can talk about it, get some help."

Bobby didn't say anything as he leaned forward on his knees and stared back over at the family as he rolled the cup back-and-forth in his hands, waiting. Then, the mother spoke something as she turned to the oldest daughter. He remembered Elliot mentioning her when they had lived together. Her name was Maureen.

The doctor gave a nod and took Maureen by the shoulder and lead her away. Bobby watched them walk away as Benson approached them. "What was that about?" he asked Benson.

"She's a match," she told them. "The only child to inherent her father's rare blood type."

Bobby felt a rush of air leave his chest as he leaned back in the chair. Closing his eyes, he felt the weight leaving him.

"Oh, thank God," Alex said as her arm squeezed his side harder. "Then he's going to be okay."

"They still have to perform the surgery, but, he should be, yeah," Benson said with a huge smile as she fought back tears. Alex got up to embrace the woman as he smiled a little.

Getting up, he told Alex he was going to take a break as he headed away from the group. Tossing the coffee away as he passed by a bin, he headed for the elevators but found himself going back outside into the cold. He was in desperate need for a drink as he took out another cigarette.

As he smoked, an ambulance pulled up as a group of doctor's meet it. They wheeled out a stretcher with an older man on rushed through the doors. Bobby leaned against the pillar and watched as the driver drove the ambulance out of the way and parked it before walking back to the ER entrance. He finished his smoke and put it out then went back in through the sliding doors.

He went up to the third floor and searched around for Fin and the Patterson's. He spotted Fin as he rounded a corner. Fin was talking on his cell phone and went to shut it as he approached.

"I just got a call from ADA Novak," Fin said as he pocketed the phone. "The twins copped to drug charges, and aiding and abetting, but nothing about helping Caleb track you. They claim they've never seen you or known about you until today." He stared at him for a moment then said, "Liv told me about El; thank God for his daughter, huh?"

Bobby smiled slightly as he gave a nod. "How's it going up here?"

"It's rough," Fin said as they started down the hall together. "She's pregnant."

Bobby stopped walking as he let out a breath. _Shit_… "Caleb the father?"

"The twins claimed this was their first time with her, and they wore condoms, Caleb didn't." Fin told him as he stepped up to him. "Like I said, it's rough. Mr. Patterson wants her to terminate the pregnancy, she doesn't. However, because of her mentality, it's not her decision. To further add drama to the mix, Zach doesn't want her to terminate either. He wants to adopt the baby."

Bobby thought about that as they once again started down the hall. As they neared the corner to the hallway that lead to Elise's room, Bobby could hear yelling. It was Patterson and his son. Rounding the corner, he saw the both of them out in the hall and Zach was demanding that his father reconsider having Elise abort the baby inside her.

"I don't care who the father is," Zach was saying. "I only care about who the mother is and that's Elise! That child is a part of her too, dad. You can't forget that!"

"You can't raise that child," Patterson was saying right back to his son. "The courts won't let you!"

"That's not entirely true," Bobby spoke up as he approached both men.

They turned to him and then looked back at each other. Zach shook his head at his father before turning away. "What'd you mean?" he asked.

Bobby glanced into the room and saw Elise in there, asleep. "I mean that you can petition to adopt your sister's child. I don't know how successful you'll be, but…" he pulled out his wallet and opened it. "I have a buddy that specializes in child custody cases. That is, if your father decides not to…uh…" he looked over at Patterson as he handed Zach the card.

Patterson was leaning against the wall and it was clear that he was highly irate, emotional, and exhausted. Letting out a breath, he said, "We'll talk about it."

"We've been talking about it," Zach snapped at him as he took the card. He looked it over before asking, "Are you sure he'll help? How much would I have to pay him?"

Bobby held up his hand and gave it a wave, saying, "Uh, don't worry about paying him, alright. Right now, you two have to come to an, uh, a agreement."

Zach looked back to his father as he said, "Dad, I know you're angry. I'm angry. We're all fucking angry. But you can't let that anger cloud your judgment on this. Yes, Caleb did a horrible thing to her. He's a monster, but the child that's growing inside of her has nothing to do with that. That's an innocent being, and he or she is a part of us, of Elise. It shouldn't be treated as a curse that needs to be discarded but as a miracle…a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes." He stared hard at his father as he said, "I may be gay, but I still believe in God. I still believe that I will and can be forgiven and I believe that God knew how much I wanted to be a dad myself, but never thought it possible…We have to believe that this baby is a true gift from God…Dad, just think-"

Patterson sighed heavily as he leaned back against the wall. Shaking his head, he said, "You're right, I wasn't…I'm not thinking clearly, I'm sorry-" he grabbed his son and pulled him into a hug.

Bobby looked over at Fin as he turned away, trying to give them privacy. He also felt highly uncomfortable at the moment. He walked over to the closed door and peered in through the window and watched Elise turn in her sleep. "Fin."

Fin walked over to him and leaned on the wall in front of him.

"How about you go take a break, check on Elliot."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, man. Go, if I need you back up here I'll call."

Fin looked over at the two Patterson men before giving him a tap on the shoulder. "Alright. Need anything?"

"I'm good." Bobby watched as Fin walked away, leaving him alone.

After a few minutes, Zach went into the room and sat next to his sister, keeping a vigil as Patterson paced up and down the hall.

"Are you okay?"

Patterson shook his head as he pulled out his cell and checked it for messages. "I'm pretty far from okay, detective. This is a nightmare."

Bobby looked to the floor as he asked, "Have you heard from your wife recently?"

"I've called, we've talked," he said as he put the phone back in his pocket.

"Is she still in Maryland or is she on her way here?"

The husband glanced up at him but didn't answer as he kept walking. He went over to a chair and sat down. Patterson breathed out hard as he said, "Her sister's going through some stuff and…I don't know. She's torn between coming back and staying. I told her I have it covered if she can't get away."

Bobby nodded as he heard someone coming down the hall. He glanced over his shoulder and saw it was Patterson's mother. Pushing off the wall, he headed toward the older woman who was trying to carry three cups of coffee. Taking two from her, he asked, "Are they all the same?"

"Yes," she told him with a nod.

Bobby handed one to Patterson before tapping on the door to the room first before entering. Zach turned to look at him as he walked over and handed him the other cup.

"They had to give her something to sleep," Zach told him as he took the cup. "She'll be out for a while."

Looking over the girl, he asked, "Have you talked to your mother about any of this?"

Zach leaned back in the chair and rubbed his head. "Dad has. I haven't really heard from her in…" he wrinkled his head in confusion as he said, "We talked the day she left for Maryland."

"Nothing since?"

Zach shook his head. "Dad's been the one to talk to her. I'm trying to stay out of it," he said bitterly.

Bobby pulled a chair over and sat down next to the son. "I know that feeling. My parents would fight a lot and even though I always wanted to get in the middle of it, it was between them."

"I did try to get in the middle of it and got yelled at for it."

"Did they have a fight before she left?"

Zach rubbed over his jaw, scratching at the beard growth on his cheek as he thought. "I think. I know that when I was there, it was tense. They weren't speaking." He rubbed over his eyes and then said in a near whisper, "There's nothing wrong with my Aunt. My mom left him. She wants a divorce."

Bobby gave a nod as he looked back to the bed. "And he doesn't."

"Of course not," Zach told him as he looked over at him.

"With my parents, it was the opposite. The thing was that my mother had every reason to divorce my father, but she didn't want to. She still loved him despite everything he did to her."

"Yeah, well…I don't think it was one thing, I think that she just doesn't love him anymore." Zach grew quiet after that as he took a sip of the coffee.

Bobby leaned on his knees as he said, "I'm having a problem understanding how this happened, Zach. Your grandmother was there and yet Elise was able to leave without her knowing."

That got a laugh from the son. "I'm not. She's not the best at paying attention, especially when she starts watching her shows."

"Her shows?"

Zach gave a nod as he watched his sister stir in her sleep. "Soap operas. For three hours she sits down in the arm chair and watches them. Elise…she could've been in her room or down in the basement, or outside, and she wouldn't have known. I'm actually surprised she discovered her gone as quickly as she did, but I think that was because of everything going on. She was more on alert than usual."

"So, normally during the times when she watched Elise, there were always three hours out of the day where she didn't pay much attention to her?"

Zach shrugged, saying, "People get complacent. She's been watching Elise after school or on her half days, weekends and during the summer for years. Elise likes to play and watch movies down in the basement. My grandmother never goes down there. She had a hip replacement a few years ago and it hurts her to walk up and down stairs."

Bobby thought about that. He thought of the basement. About the fact that Caleb had been there, coming in and out, planting evidence. He thought about the room down there, the one with the bed where Zach's or Elise's friends had stayed, or could stay, if they slept over. The bedroom with a door and if the volume was up on the TV, or music on, nothing could be heard all the way upstairs.

He excused himself as he got up and left the room. Halfway down the hall, he pulled out his cell phone and called a number. After a few rings, it picked up.

"Crime Lab, this is Tom Dietrich."

"Tom, it's Bobby."

"Hey, Bobby; what can I do you for?"

"I need to know if there was any evidence collected from the Patterson basement, particularly from the bedroom down there."

Tom was quiet for a moment before telling him, "Nothing was done yesterday when I was there. We checked locks and doors for fingerprints, and, hey, I thought you found the girl."

"Yeah, but…When Patterson was first accused, was the bedroom in the basement processed for evidence?"

"Let me check. We didn't do that so…Hold on," Tom told him before putting him on hold.

Bobby sighed as his body ached for another cigarette, or a drink. A glass of scotch would be amazing right about now. The twins weren't the ones who were following him. If they were, they would've owned up to it. That meant someone else was still out there.

Looking down the hall, he spotted a couple of vending machines and headed for them. He dug around in his pocket for change as he approached the machines. As he bought himself a soda, Tom came back on the line.

"It was processed but the evidence collected has been waiting to be tested."

He took a big gulp of the coke before saying, "What'd you mean it's been waiting?"

"Have you not been keeping up with the news lately? Crime labs are backlogged all over the five boroughs, my friend. Been that way since about October. If it had been brought to 1PP's lab, then maybe we could've done something with it by now, but it never was. They got it sitting on a shelf over at-"

"I don't care where it's at. Get it and run it. Run any DNA found through the system. I want to know something by the end of the day."

Tom groaned but said, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, I owe you."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, you want to pay me back? Get me opening day tickets for the Yankees."

"It's not even spring training yet?"

"You're asking me to run over half the city to get evidence that doesn't even pertain to a case we're working on. And in order to get you something by the end of the day I'm going to have to put a stop to what I'm trying to get tested now which is going to piss off a lot of other detectives who're waiting-"

"Alright, opening day. You want box seats too?"

"If you can get 'em."

Bobby groaned and worked his neck, feeling the tension building. "Just get me the results, Thomas," he said before he snapped the cell shut. Tom hated it when he called him that.

Walking back over to the row of chairs in the hall, he sat down a few seats away from Patterson and leaned back. Resting his head against the wall, he closed his eyes.

He felt his cell vibrate in his pocket, jarring him out of his thoughts. Pulling it out, he saw the time and then the person calling. He'd been resting in the chair for over an hour, and the call was from Central Dispatch. "Goren," he answered.

"Detective, we got a possible on that APB."

Bobby sat up and looked around the empty hallway as he got up. He saw the Patterson family in the room. "Uh, where?"

"Call came in from Chinatown. They found a teenager with a gunshot wound passed out in the bathroom at a subway station. Ambulance is taking him to NYC Downtown Hospital. TDA, two minutes."

Bobby wanted to laugh, and nearly did as he said, "Thanks," before flipping the phone shut. He headed down the hall as he flipped the phone back open and searched for Fin's number. When he answered, he told him, "Hey, I'm leaving the floor. The Patterson's are in the room."

"Has Elise woken up yet?"

"No, she's still out."

"Alright, then I don't need to come back up there yet. Elliot's in surgery now on the fifth floor. We're all up here. Alex's been keeping Liv company."

"I'll be up soon; after I take care of something." Bobby hung up the phone as he approached the elevator and went down the ER waiting room.

A patrol officer was going down a hall toward the Triage room number 3. Bobby followed. Peering in the room, he saw the kid on the stretcher yelling at the nurse and doctors. He was awake but in pain as he was getting worked on.

Bobby stared at the kid as he asked the uniform, "Can I use your handcuffs," as he showed him his shield.

"That him?" the uniform officer asked as he pulled out a ser of handcuffs and handed it to him.

He gave a nod as he walked in. Caleb looked over and when their eyes met, he tried to bolt. Bobby moved between a doctor and nurse as he grabbed Caleb up by his torn and bloody shirt and slammed him hard back down on the bed, causing the nurse's tray to scatter over the floor. Caleb brought his right arm up and hit him against his left cheek. That was fine by him because he pinned him down with a right forearm to his throat and hit him back. The solid punch to Caleb's face stunned him long enough for Bobby to snap the cuff on his wrist and then the railing to the bed as he stared into his eyes.

Pressing hard against his throat as he leaned closer, he told him in pure satisfaction, "Caleb Cunningham, you're under arrest."

"I want a lawyer," he squeaked out there his straining gasps for air. Caleb was turning red from lack of oxygen and then he started to panic when he didn't move.

Caleb thrashed around on the bed as he gripped his shirt with his free hand.

"Detective! He can't breathe and he's losing a lot of blood!"

Bobby finally blinked back as he heard the doctor's voice beside him. He stepped back, finally releasing Caleb's throat as he sucked in air. Not looking at the doctor, he said, "Finish stitching him up. I'll have a, uh…an officer standing watch outside. Once he's free to go, he's to be taken into custody."

As Bobby left the room, he saw the officer looking the other way, ignoring what just happened in that room. "He's all yours."

"Is that other detective going to be okay?"

Bobby gave a nod, saying, "He's in surgery, but yeah, he's going to make it."

He went outside and shivered in the cold night air instead of to the elevators as he pulled out another cigarette. The need for a drink was getting stronger and harder to ignore. He smoked one as he fought off the urge to leave while also thinking over the cases. Pacing up and down the snow covered walkway, he went over everything in his head. By the time he was on his second smoke, he was certain of a few things that he hadn't been certain of before. He had filled in the blanks to the cases and pieced everything together and knew what he had to do. Or rather, what Alex and Logan had to do because the ADA case wasn't technically his.

Finishing off his second cigarette, he put it out and then headed up to the fifth floor as he felt the weight of the day set in. He was so tired, not just physically but mentally and emotionally. Bobby didn't think he could handle anymore.

Going over to elevators, he hit the button and waited. The doors opened and he went to step in when he saw her standing there. She had her head resting back against the wall, eyes closed, and was taking a few deep breaths as she held her cell phone in her right hand. Alex was unaware of the elevator doors opening.

Stepping into of the elevator, he walked up to her. She startled as her eyes opened when he wrapped his arm around her waist. Breathing out, she said, "Bobby…"

Leaning down, he kissed Alex on her forehead, and then her lips as he pulled her to him. She responded by pulling him down closer and gripping the back of his neck. They kissed desperately and passionately for a few minutes, until they heard the doors open again and people talking.

"This is a hospital, not a hotel," came Logan's voice.

Bobby broke the kiss and breathed out as he rested his head on her shoulder, still pushing her into the wall.

"Hey, Logan," Alex said as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Hugging him to her. "Give us a minute."

"He'll need more than one," he said with a chuckle.

Alex was laughing, her body jerking in his, before saying, "They're gone."

Bobby smiled into her neck before kissing it. "Who're they?"

"It was Logan and Liv, they had gone down to the café to get something to eat and drink."

"Guess who's cuffed to a bed in the ER?"

She looked up at him as he straightened. "Don't tell me, Caleb?"

"They found him passed out in the bathroom at a subway station in Chinatown. Blood loss; they're stitching him up now."

"So, we got him. It's over."

Bobby stared down into her eyes as he shook his head. "No, it's not. ADA Gardner…"

"I thought we agreed that it was Caleb."

Shaking his head, he said, "I was wrong," in a thick, strained voice. Clearing his throat, he took out the piece of notepad paper from his pocket and handed it over to her.

Alex took it and unfolded it as she read what he had written down. Sighing heavily, she looked up at him. "First thing tomorrow, we'll headed down there."

"It's not my case. You and Logan take it. You're partners…" Bobby gave her another kiss before moving away. He needed to sit down; his knee was starting to throb as the pain killer the doctor had given him when he'd first arrived wore off.

He pushed the button for the doors to open. He wrapped his arm around Alex as Logan and Benson got onto the elevator.

"So, the café is closing. We were going back up to collect donations for pizza or something. Want anything?"

Bobby glanced over at Logan and shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Once they were off the elevator, he found an empty chair across the wide open waiting room and sat down heavily. Swallowing down the groan of pain, he closed his eyes as Alex sat down next to him.

"I'm going to go with them to pick something up. Are you sure you don't want anything? It's getting late, Bobby, when did you last eat?"

Shaking his head, Bobby told her again, "I don't want any food, Alex." He wanted a drink so bad it physically hurt along with everything else in his body.

Alex's fingers were running through his hair as she said, "I'll get something extra just in case you change your mind." She pressed a kiss on his cheek and then was gone.

Bobby opened his eyes and looked around the room. The Stabler family was across the room. The twin boys were passed out asleep in the chairs and one of the daughters was on her cell phone in the corner. She looked anxious to leave and probably would have taken off if there wasn't such a large group of cops standing around. The older daughter and Elliot's wife were talking to each other and Captain Cragen who had yet to leave.

Some of the detectives who had been there earlier were gone, having to get back to work but there was a constant coming and going of friends and colleagues. Rubbing at his neck, he didn't remember such a presence of cops when he was laid up in the hospital after he was found a few years ago. It didn't matter, the only person he ever cared to be there for him was Alex.

As he sat there with his leg shaking and bouncing up and down, the harder it was getting to stay focused. He felt the gnawing of anger burning in his gut, he felt his hands balling in his lap, then twisting his fingers painfully as he tried to calm himself down and push the desperate need of alcohol away.

His face hurt from where Caleb had hit him, making his muscles ache as he clenched his jaw tighter. He felt the sweat coating his back, his neck, and head as he reached up to wipe it away. Yesterday he had given in and had two beers with his lunch. He was regretting that now because it was like relapsing and he was right back to craving it so strongly that it was hurting. Leaning forward, he felt his stomach aching in nausea, burning in anger, and twisting in pain.

Someone sat down beside him and when he looked over he saw it was Captain Cragen. Sitting up in the chair, he said, "Uh, sir?"

Cragen took in his appearance and then said, "I got a call from a friend of mine yesterday."

Bobby stared at him until he continued, because he had no idea what he was talking about or why he was telling him.

"He told me that you were in need of help."

He continued to stare at the captain until it registered in his pounding head. Bobby went to speak when he couldn't. Clearing his throat, he took a breath and then said, "I wasn't aware of your first name being Don."

Cragen smiled a little as he looked away from him and over the room. "As your Captain, you shouldn't be aware of it." He looked back over at him, saying, "How long has it been?"

Bobby shut his eyes and rubbed at his head. "I gave in yesterday…had two beers."

Cragen didn't look upset at that admission, instead he looked slightly happy. "You know they say that admitting you have a problem is the hardest step to recovery. At least you're being honest and not bullshitting me."

Bobby peered over at him as he rested his head in his hand. "So…uh," he swallowed hard before asking, "how does this work?"

"First, let me tell you that it only works if you want it to. If you're one hundred percent committed. I'm willing to take you on, be your sponsor, but only if you're willing to quit for good."

Bobby looked away as he gave a nod. "And if I don't know the answer to that?"

"When you do know, come talk to me," Cragen said as he patted him on shoulder before getting up. "As long as this isn't effecting your work, we can keep it a secret. However, if you let it go too long and it does start interfering with the job, everyone will know from the Chief on up. Think about it."

Bobby watched as he walked away. He sat in the chair, thinking about all that as he tapped his fingers over his mouth and his left leg once again bounced uncontrollably.

Awhile later, he noticed Alex, Logan, and Benson returned with food for everyone. Alex sat down next to him and offered him a water and a plate of pizza slices.

Bobby took the bottle but not the pizza. He took his time drinking the water as he continued to think while at the same time trying not to think. Part of the reason he'd been constantly moving since arriving at the hospital was because whenever he stopped, whenever he let himself think about it, he couldn't stop seeing Elliot. It kept replaying over and over in his head. The blood gushing, and the pure look of fear and panic in Elliot's eyes just before his body started to shake.

Shaking his head, he rubbed at his eyes and leaned on his knees.

"Bobby, are-"

"If you ask if I'm okay one more time-" Bobby snapped as he stared over at her and then sighed heavily. Looking away, he downed the rest of the water in the bottle.

He didn't move again until he was forced to by having to use the bathroom. He was in the middle of washing his hands when he felt his cell vibrate. He dried his hands and left the bathroom as he went to pull it out.

Entering the waiting area, he saw a doctor talking to Kathy Stabler and stopped. He could tell that the news was good and smiled as everything in the waiting area smiled and seemed to collectively relax.

Alex walked over to him and said, "He's out of surgery and he's stable; they're taking him to recovery now."

Bobby let out a breath of air himself as she pulled him into a hug.

"You're shaking again, Bobby," Alex said as she pulled away.

"I'm fine," he told her as he held up his cell phone. "I uh, I gotta-" Bobby looked at the caller ID and saw that it wasn't Tom calling him back, but his mother. Sighing, he flipped open he cell as he stepped away from Alex. He hadn't talked to his mother in over a week. "Hi, mom," he said as he headed back down the hall toward the restrooms to give himself some privacy.

"Don't 'hi' me, why didn't you answer when I called earlier?"

Bobby closed his eyes and tried to focus on what to say. "I was busy."

"And why haven't you been to see me?"

"I've been sick and didn't-"

"But not too sick to work. I read the papers. You should know that I wouldn't be able to sleep without hearing from you. You know how I worry." She was silent a moment before she asked, "Well, did you want me to stay up all night and worry?"

"Of course not, ma. I should have considered-"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "That's just like you, not thinking of anyone but yourself."

Bobby stared hard at the wall in front of him as he listened to her verbal sparring. She always got like that late at night when she was tired. It didn't matter who you were, except if you were Frank, you got laid into by her frustration and fatigue. "Sorry, you're right. I wasn't thinking. What did you do today?"

"Besides worry about you? I had a day…I painted and read, and read-"

"What'd you read?"

Frances was quiet for a long moment and Bobby thought maybe she zoned out on him. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Ma?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," she said in irritation. "I think I read…oh, I don't remember. It started to snow earlier, it started to snow and-and then I talked with Eleanor about Frank."

The sudden rambling, her repeated words and phrases weren't lost on him. His mother's thoughts were starting to slip. It was late, she was tired, and he did stress her out by not calling or seeing her yet this week. Bobby shook his head into the phone as he told her, "Uh, have you seen Frank? Has he called or…?"

"Why would he? He's busy with important work, with his work. When he gets time he'll call or-or-or drop by. Am I still seeing you Sunday or are you going to forget like you forgot me last week, like last week?"

Bobby felt his throat tighten as his lips pursed in frustration and sadness. He bit his bottom lip as he closed his eyes. Swallowing hard, he said, "I'm not going to forget, I'll be there Sunday. Ma, listen, I'm at the hospital, visiting a friend…I've got to go, okay? I have to go now."

"The hospital? Why are you there visiting a-a-a friend instead of here visiting your mother? Bobby-Bobby, are you listening-"

"Ma, I have to go," Bobby told her again.

"Fine," she nearly barked out before she hung up the phone.

Bobby stared at his cell briefly before pocketing it. His mother never ended with the usual good-bye or a 'love you'; she always just hung up, end of discussion. Pocketing the phone, he turned around and saw Alex standing down at the other end of the hall. She was looking his way, and had her arms crossed over her chest.

Walking up to her, he said, "I can't handle anything else today, Alex."

"You look ready to drop. C'mon, let's go home. The apartment has been cleared and I'm not in the mood to drive to Staten Island. Caleb's in police custody so I feel safer going back."

Bobby gave a nod as he let her drag him across the floor and down the hallway. He was so tired and too much pain to argue. The ibuprofen he'd been taking was at the apartment, in the kitchen where he had put it.

"Where's your car?"

"At SVU," he told her as they left the hospital.

"Are your clothes evidence?"

"I tossed my jacket and dress shirt, they were ruined. My overcoat's, uh…I took it off in the patrol car that brought me here. I left it. The officer called me earlier, I told him to just keep it. I had nothing in it, except my tie. There was blood on it too…Elliot's and mine."

Alex stopped him with a hand on his chest and stared up at him. "Bobby, are you sure you're okay? You sound very off. You're distant."

"Am I?" he asked as he took a breath. "Look, I'm…" he shook his head and rubbed at it as he walked around the sidewalk. "I'm trying to not lose it, okay?" Bobby finally said as he looked around the street. His head was throbbing, his knee felt like any second it was going to give, and his gut was killing him. "I really need a drink, and anything to stop this pain…I can't deal with it so…"

"So you're trying to keep everything at a distance," she said with a tense nod. "Okay. My car's this way." Alex took him by the hand and started for the parking garage.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

Bobby heard Alex walk into to the bedroom right before he heard her say, "What the hell?"

He winced as he pulled his t-shirt off as he entered the room and looked toward the bed. "I did that," he told her as he put the shirt in the dirty clothes basket.

Alex turned to him with a deeply concerned frown. "Why? Were the sheets the wrong color?" she asked as she looked at his body. "Bobby."

He looked down and saw the deep dark purple bruising that spread from his right side all the way around to his back. That explained the pain. "It's nothing," he told her as he opened his drawer to the dresser and took out another shirt along with a pair of sweats and boxers. He tossed the clothes on the chair before grabbing the mattress and putting it back on the bed. "There, happy."

"No," she said before leaving the bedroom and opening the linen closet. "I'll put my sheets on it and leave the cleanup for you. Do you want an icepack or heating pad or something?"

Taking the clothes with him, he went into the bathroom and shut the door without answering. He took three of the ibuprofens as he waited for the water to heat up. He unbuckled his belt and then unzipped his pants. Once they were off, he saw bruising over his right leg as well from where the car had clipped him. The doctor had put a brace on his knee and it was swelled. A prescription of anti-inflammatory medication was in his wallet, having forgotten to tell Alex to stop. Sitting down on the toilet seat, he eased the brace off his leg and tossed it aside before checking the water. It was hot so he put the stopper in the drain, turned on some cold water, and let the tub fill.

He hardly took a bath himself, Alex being the one who preferred it, especially in his huge old tub. However, tonight was definitely at bath kind-of night. His body was killing him.

Alex tapped on the door before opening it.

Bobby watched as she opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a bag of Epsom salt. "Don't add that to-…Alex," he moaned as she did just that.

"It'll help."

"A glass of scotch would help," he said as he watched at the salt mixed in with the water.

Alex rolled her eyes as she leaned down to give him a kiss. "Enjoy."

Bobby watched as she left the room before taking off his boxers and getting into the tub. Leaning back in the warm water, he let out a sigh in relief as the water, and admittedly, the salts did wonders for his sore and hurt body.

Alex came back in and he rolled his head on the back of the tub to look over at her. She had changed into the red silk robe he'd gotten for her on Valentine's Day; her hair was pulled up with loose ends hanging down around her face, framing it, and her feet were bare. Looking her up and down, he felt his lips twist up into a lazy smile.

She went over to the radio she still had sitting on the counter since Valentine's. Alex turned it on and pressed play on the CD. Closing his eyes, he smiled at the sound of Al Green's voice singing "_How Can You Mend a Broken Heart_". It was his favorite song by the soul singer. "_Sexy_. Are you going to…mend this, broken man?" he asked, referring to a lyric in the song playing.

"Planning on it," she said in a soft, sexy voice. "That is if you don't pass out first."

"I'm awake," he mumbled as he opened his eyes and saw the two wine glasses in her hand. Giving her a confused look, he pointed to one, saying, "I thought I couldn't drink."

"You don't need to, but you also need to relieve a lot stress. It was a rough day," she said as she knelt beside the tub and handed him the glass. "Elliot's going to be okay, Bobby. And you may be battered and bruised, but you're going to be okay too. Caleb is in custody, and Elise is alive and relatively well…"

Bobby finally let himself smile a little as he took a sip of the red wine. Looking over at her, he leaned his head back on the tub as he said, "Thank you. I'm sorry for being so angry today."

"Bobby, you have nothing to apologize about. I understood and I didn't take any of it personally. Why do you think I kept away from you most of the time. I knew you needed time, and that your anger was close to the surface." She reached out, running her hand over his head and her fingers through his hair.

He really liked that. It was calming; her doing that and the song drifting into his head instead of the sounds of screaming, of the car screeching, his body hitting the windshield…

Then he felt her lips against his as she soft laid kisses over his lips, then his cheek, his jaw. Humming in pleasure, he asked, "Join me," as he kissed her back.

Alex smiled as she stood up, leaving her glass on the floor so she could take off the robe. Bobby couldn't take his eyes off her and her skin as she got in with him. She leaned back against his chest, sighing contently as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

They laid together in each other's arms, enjoying how relaxed they both felt together as they sipped on the wine and listened to the music.

Bobby closed his eyes and forgot about the day. He didn't think about anything other than the woman in his arms, the words to the song, the feel of Alex's skin against his and how her chest breathed right along with his.

Smiling, he started to sing along to the song. "What makes the world go 'round? And sometimes I got to say, I say, la la la…la la la, ha, yeah…La, la, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la…"

Alex started chuckling in his arms as he kept singing.

"Tell me! Help me mend myyyy, my broken heart. I just wanna, I just wanna, I just wanna, I just wanna, I just wanna livvvve again, baby! How can you mend, this broken man? Somebody tell me, how can a loser, ever win? Baby! Help me mend my…this old, broken heart…I think I, I believe I, I feel like I-"

Alex turned in his arms and captured his mouth in a deep kiss, silencing him.

Bobby wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. "About time you got the hint, woman," he said into her mouth as she pulled away to readjust herself, straddling his waist.

"Woman?"

Bobby chuckled as he sat the glass down on the floor before wrapping his arms back around her waist. Leaning forward, he kissed over her bare wet chest, her stomach, and then said, "You're my woman."

Alex leaned down and took his lips in hers, before saying as she moved over him, and then down…"And you're my man."

Bobby's breath hitched as she took him into her. He groaned as he moved up as she eased further down. Once he was buried deep inside her, he let out the breath he'd been holding. "No more interruptions," he said as he kissed along her neck then down to her breasts.

They took it nice and slow so not to cause too much of a mess, which he was perfectly fine with as the slower movements seemed to intensify everything. They made love for what seemed like hours before he finally felt the sudden jolt of ecstasy hit him. It had come out of nowhere and it seemed to have lasted for minutes as he clenched his eyes hut and shuttered right along with Alex as her body tensed and shook.

He held Alex tightly against his body as he continued to shake as he breathed deeply into her chest. Her hands were running through his hair again, and down his back, soothing his shaking. Then he realized why he was shivering. The water was cool. Alex tilted his head up and leaned down to kiss him hard on the lips.

After she broke their lazy kisses, she reached back and pulled out the plug to the tub. "I think it's time to get warm."

Giving a nod because he couldn't really speak yet, he helped her get out before he could follow on unsteady legs. They dried each other off and once wrapped he was dressed in the clothes the she back in her robe, they headed down the hall to the bedroom.

Alex got under the covers first before he joined her, pulling her close to his shivering body. As they laid together in the dark, Bobby kept thinking about something he'd been meaning to ask her for days now. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you awake?"

"Hmm," she answered against his chest.

Bobby rubbed his hand up and down her back as he said, "I've, uh…I've been thinking and…Wondering if, if you're still planning on moving out."

Alex shifted against him as she looked up toward his face. Bobby stared down at her as she said, "I thought we agreed."

"We did. It's just…I uh, I haven't heard anything about it for a few days. I didn't know if you'd changed your mind."

Alex was rubbing him over his chest through his shirt. She was taking her time in answering and he didn't know what that meant so he waited her out. "Bobby, yesterday I put a down payment on that apartment in Rockaway."

He took that in as he gave a nod. "Oh, uh, okay. That's…Yeah, okay, I got my answer."

"You never went with me to look at the apartment, Bobby. We were supposed to have gone together, but you never made the time."

Bobby turned over with a groan as he stared up at the ceiling. Rubbing his hand over his head, he said, "I was working."

"So was I. You could've gone with me, but instead I had to take Logan."

He peered over at her at that. _She took Logan?_ "What, are you two like friends now?"

Alex didn't say anything to that as she reached out and slapped him over his head. "We're partners, Bobby, and yes, sometimes that means being a friend."

"Ow," he meekly said as he rubbed his head. "You didn't have to smack me."

"Yes, I did, because I didn't like where that thought was going. I know you. You get jealous. There's no reason for you to be jealous of Mike Logan. I'm with you." Alex leaned up on her elbow as she stared down at him. "Wait a sec, you didn't change your mind, did you?"

Bobby went to speak when he thought about that question. Had he changed his mind? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that the arguing had stopped and they seemed to be okay. They weren't a hundred percent, and he never thought they would ever be, but…They were doing good. "I-I, uh…Alex, I don't know. I just, thought…Hell, I don't know what I thought. It's still okay if you want to move out. If that's what you want. If it'll make you happy…"

"Oh, my God," Alex breathed out as she fell back down in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "You're having second thoughts."

"Aren't you? Or better yet, why aren't you?"

Alex looked over at him and said, "Because I don't change my mind five million times in one day. Bobby, we agreed. I've been looking for a place, I found one that I liked, and I put a down payment on it. Like we talked about." She sighed heavily when he didn't say anything. "You think we're better, don't you? Look," she said as she turned back over to face him. "It may be a little better now, but what about a week from now? What about when we're not so busy with work? You remember what it was like when you were off for a month. If you're not working, Bobby, you're driving not only yourself, but me, crazy."

He looked over at her as she said that. "I like to work."

"I know you do. You like it so much that you really can't do anything else. You can't even relax. You want to take a vacation but I know that once we get away from New York, you're going to want to come back."

Bobby knew that she was right. Even though he wanted, and thought that a break would do him good, he would be bored and thinking about work the whole time.

Alex was quiet as she reached out and cupped his chin; rubbing her thumb over the stubble that had grown since he last shaved. Which wasn't that long ago but he was the type of guy that had to shave twice a day to keep himself clean-shaven. "We're getting off track, here. This apartment, it's yours. You've tried to make it ours, but it's never going to happen. You're miserable. You'll never tell me, but I know you are. I see it every time you refuse to let me turn the TV on in here while you're in here. You hate the fact that you can't sit up in bed and read in peace and quiet. So, what do you do, you go into the study and shut me out."

"It's called compromising," he said as he rememebered what Elliot had told him when he first decided to have Alex move in. He had to compromise.

"Not at the expense of your own happiness. Comfort, we can manuver around, but if you're not happy..."

"I can learn to be okay with it, Alex."

She turned his face toward hers so she could see him; looking into his eyes, she said, "I'm watching Nathan this weekend. I'm bringing him here to stay for two days."

"Okay."

Alex waited a moment then asked, "Where will you be?"

Bobby stared at her and turned away. The last time she had babysat Nathan, he had gone to stay with Lewis for Friday and Saturday, and then Sunday he had gone to visit his mother like every Sunday.

"You're not ready, and I don't know if you're ever going to be ready, or even okay, with integrating your life into my life. Or your family with my family. I have to force you to visit mine."

"I have my own family I have to deal with."

"You have your mother, who I've never even met."

Bobby felt his head start to hurt as he closed his eyes. "My mother, she demands a lot of my time. The weekends that I actually have off, I try to spend with her. And you're right...You meeting my mother isn't very high on my list of things to endure," he said as he turned his head away from her. Staring up at the ceiling, he heard something. It was faint and coming from down the hall. Bobby sat up and listened before realized what it was. It was the vibration of a cell phone. Getting out of bed, he rounded the bed and went out into the hall.

"We're not done talking about this," she yelled after him.

He'd left his pants on the floor in the bathroom. Picking it up, he carried it to the bedroom as he dug out his cell phone. Tossing the pants on the chair in the corner, he checked the caller ID. It was the crime lab. "Tom, what did you find out?" he asked as he laid back down in bed.

Tom was quiet for a moment before telling him, "I ran the DNA evidence that CSU found in the basement bedroom in Patterson's house."

Bobby rubbed at his eyes as he turned to Alex who had rolled away from him. "And?"

"Okay, DNA match to Elise Patterson that was also collected today at the apartment in Chinatown. I also matched Caleb's DNA from what was in the same apartment, and what had been put into the system from his arrests in Alabama. Now, I ran all the DNA through the system like you asked and," he took a breath, "I got another match. It's from DNA that was already in the system."

Bobby's head was killing him and he groaned as he nearly snapped, "For Christ's sakes, Thomas, just spit it out." He glanced over at Alex and saw her look as she glanced over at him.

"It's just, this is weird shit, Bobby. I've got relative DNA matching Caleb's DNA."

"Relative DNA as in…what? A father, or brother or something?"

"From what I have here, it's a half-brother. I broke it down and was able to determine that they share paternal DNA. They share DNA from the same father but not the same mother."

A half-brother, Bobby thought. Maybe this brother was the one tailing him. "Okay, that's great. His brother's in the system. He mentioned to me that he had a brother, so…who is it?"

Tom was quiet again and when he did speak, it was in a low whisper. "It's you."

Bobby stared out the window, his head buzzing, as he said, "Uh, say that again, Tom? I don't think I heard-"

"You're the matching DNA, Bobby. According to this, you're Caleb's half-brother."

He rubbed at his head, seeing nothing as he tried to comprehend what Tom had just told him. "I'm…he's my-Tom, run it again!"

"I did, man, three times. Every time it comes back to you." Tom was quiet again and then said, "I'm sorry, man, I really am, but I don't know who your dad was, but he had another kid. DNA doesn't lie."

He couldn't breathe.

"Bobby? Bobby! Are you okay?" That was Alex, she was talking, asking if he was okay.

"Um, yeah…" he said as he struggled to breathe. Closing his eyes, he said, "Th-thanks, uh-" He snapped the phone shut and clenched it in his hand so tight he was afraid it would break.

"Bobby, what is it?"

_Caleb was his brother? His half-brother…Paternal father…_Bobby stared straight in front of him as he started to shake.

"You're scaring me, Goren. What's going on? What did Tom have to say?"

Shaking his head, he said, "I'm…I'm not…" Bobby blinked back and let out a deep breath of air. "I have to go."

"Go, Bobby, where do you have to go?"

Bobby got up out of bed and paced around the bedroom as his head pounded. Rubbing at it, he tried to focus, to think, because nothing was making sense. No, no, no…this wasn't right. Someone was fucking with him. That's what it was. Someone had to have hacked into the system.

Digging into this pocket of his pants, he pulled out the pack of cigarettes only to find it empty. Crumbling up the pack he threw it against the wall and started to walk, eyes searching for his shoes.

"Bobby?"

"I can't. Not right now," he softly told her as he slipped on his shoes. He didn't care that he wasn't wearing any socks.

"You damn well can," she snapped as she tried to stop him. "What is going on?"

"I don't know," Bobby honestly told her as he shook her hand off his arm as he went to the closet and grabbed his jacket. He rummaged through his pants again and got out his wallet and keys. His shield and gun were in the kitchen.

Bobby crossed the room and was down the hall and out the front door before Alex could stop him.

"Bobby!"

He heard her yelling his name in the cold night that continued to drop snow onto the ground. Bobby ignored her as he walked to the corner, crossed the street, and then kept walking.

TBC…

I know, I'm evil, but I like my version better than the 'death bed' confession. And, this works in well with my next story. Remember, this takes place around Season 4, so as of now, Bobby has does not know that Mark Ford Brady is his biological father.


	16. Saturday, February 19th, 2005

A/N: First off, I apologize for the long delay in updating. It's been hectic the past month because I just moved over a thousand miles back home and I finally got my internet back up, yes! Secondly, thanks all of you for the wonderful reviews!

This is not the last story to my series. The next story will be entitled 'A Brother to Dragons'. However, this story is coming to a close.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><span>Lower East Side, Manhattan<span>_

The subway train screeched to a halt as he got up and exited the train. Walking through the nearly empty station, he kept his eyes scanning for anyone or thing out of the ordinary. Being paranoid was something he was used to, especially now that he knew someone else was still out there, watching him. It hurt to walk, it hurt to climb the staircases out of the tunnel, but he ignored the pain as much as possible as he continued out of the station and into the cold night and construction zone.

Why did he get off at Fulton and Broadway anyway? Looking back west as he started east down the street toward Williams Street, he almost expected to see the towers. It used to be that he could look up the there they would be. Stopping mid-step, he stared at the empty space and sky. He would never get used to that. The empty space. Even when another building or tower went up in that spot, it still wouldn't be the same.

Halfway down Fulton he spotted a store on the corner across the street, he ducked in and quickly bought a pack of cigarettes. As he paid, his cell started vibrating again in his coat pocket. Knowing exactly who it was, he didn't bother answering it. He smoked as he continued down the street and then took a left on Williams. Two more blocks and he'd be at the hospital. If he kept going, two more streets up was the Brooklyn Bridge, next to the bridge was Avenue of the Finest, Park Row…One Police Plaza.

As he approached the hospital, he waited outside until he was done smoking before going inside. The ER was actually quiet, he was surprised. Knowing it wouldn't stay that way for long, he headed down the hall and searched out a uniform officer. He found one around the corner and down a long hallway. It was quiet in the halls as well; with the lights dimmed, it was almost peaceful. Almost.

The uniform looked familiar and as he got closer, he recognized him as one of the officers who had been there yesterday in Chinatown. "How's it going?"

The cop recognized him as he held out his hand, shaking it. "Can't complain, detective. Good job yesterday. And I heard the other detective's going to be okay."

Bobby gave a nod as he looked into the room. At seeing Caleb in there sound asleep, he felt his jaw twitch. "Yeah, he's going to be fine." Gesturing into the room, he asked, "Has he been saying anything?"

"Besides asking for a lawyer every moment he's awake, not much."

Reading the name on the uniform, Bobby asked as he looked down the hall. "You smoke, Officer McBride?"

McBride looked over at him and then down the hall where Bobby was looking. There was an exit that went out into a courtyard. "I do tonight. Be back in five."

Bobby watched him walk away before opening the door and going in. He shut it softly as he listened to the beeping of the monitors. The room was dark, with the only light coming from the machines and out of the bathroom. Unzipping his coat, he shrugged it off and tossed it on a chair as he approached the bed.

He stared down at Caleb sleeping for a moment as he took in his dark hair and features. Nothing about the kid looked like his father. Then again, he didn't look like his father either. Frank was a combination of both his parents. He got his father's wavy brown hair, blue eyes, chin, nose and ears, but his mouth, cheek and eye bone structure reminded him of their mother.

Himself, on the other hand, didn't resemble his father at all and the only thing he inherited from his mother was her brown eyes. She always claimed it was her family he took after, relatives whom he'd never met nor seen pictures of. His mother always swore he looked exactly like one of her uncles. So, if that were true, then why in the hell did Caleb look more like him than Frank did?

Nothing about Caleb screamed William Goren. Picturing Meredith Cunningham in his head, he didn't see much resemblance to her either, but that didn't mean that the kid didn't take after her side of the family. Then again, he still didn't know what the truth was. In his line of work, he'd learned to question and second guess everything.

He had to be one hundred percent positive.

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out an zip-lock bag from the pocket before opening up a drawer by the bed. He took out a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on. Then he pulled out two individually wrapped Q-tips that were used for checkups. Setting one on the counter beside the zip-lock bag, he opened the other and pulled it out. Leaning over the railing, he woke Caleb up.

Caleb woke with a start and then a muffled scream as he found the wound in his right side. Staring up into his eyes, Bobby saw a sudden flash of recognition and then anger burning deep into him.

"Sleep well?" he asked as he twisted the Q-tip around.

Caleb jerked, making him hold him down harder as he twisted his fingers around in the wound. He could hear the gasp of a scream behind his hand.

Bobby stared hard at him and when he saw the nothing in Caleb's eyes, not even fear. Leaning down closer, getting right next to his ear, he asked, "Do you know who I am?" The fear of nothing turned quickly to confusion.

Moving his hand, but keeping pressure on his jaw and neck, he heard Caleb strain out, "I know…ever'thin'…cop." With a slight chuckle, he said, "I've been in your house…"

Bobby breathed out heavily as he realized Caleb didn't understand what he was asking. Maybe Caleb didn't know they were related. "You told me that you never knew your father. That he died when you were a kid…Were you telling me the truth?"

Caleb stared at him for a long moment, refusing to answer. Bobby twisted the Q-tip around again, causing him to struggle against him as the heart monitor started to beep faster.

"Yes," Caleb groaned out as the monitor beeped faster.

"Are you lying?"

Caleb shook his head no as he swallowed around a muffled scream of pain.

"Do you know who he is…A name?"

Caleb was struggling to stay conscious as he started to hyperventilate.

"A name?" Bobby yelled in his ear.

Caleb shook his head no again.

Pulling his hand away, he looked at the bloody Q-tip as he moved away from the bed and put it back into the wrapper. He was expecting Caleb to start screaming but when he didn't, Bobby glanced down. Caleb was staring up at him as he held his bloody side as he shook with strangled breaths of air. The stare was fill with so much hate it would have scared any other man. It didn't scare him; he'd seen it before. Picking up the other wrapper, he took out the new Q-tip and leaned back down.

"Open up," Bobby told him.

Caleb tried to jerk away from him, but he pressed his forearm back in his throat like he'd done earlier. He didn't ask permission before he stuck the Q-tip into his mouth, making sure to scrap it along his inner cheek and gum line. Pulling it away, he heard Caleb gasping for air.

"If all ya wan'ed, was a DNA sample," Caleb said right before he went to spit on him.

Bobby clamped his gloved hand hard over his mouth as he leaned down. "If you spit on me, I'll break your jaw. Understand?"

They stared into each others dark eyes for a long moment. Caleb finally breathed out against his hand and gave a nod. Bobby was glad, because he wasn't joking around. With the amount of fury he felt rolling around in him, he was certain he would have done it.

Not moving off of Caleb just yet, he asked as he moved his hand away but continued to press hard against the side of the kid's throat, "Who is it?"

"Who?" Caleb asked between tight gasps of air. The monitors started to beep but this time it was from lack of oxygen.

"You know who. The person whose been following me around," Bobby said as he pressed down, causing to beeping rhythm get faster.

Smirking slightly, as best as anyone could with a forearm in their jaw and throat, Caleb didn't say anything as the monitor's rapid beeping slowed. Pressing harder, Bobby heard Caleb squeak out in a strangled gasp, "Do it."

Bobby stared down into his eyes and knew Caleb was done answering his questions. He'd rather die. Letting him go, he backed away as he grabbed the two wrappers and put them in the zip-lock bag. "You're not worth it." He slipped the gloves off, picked up his coat, and then left the room.

The cop was once again standing outside the door, but not paying him any attention as he took a sip from a water bottle.

As he started to walk away, he told the officer, "You might want to call a nurse…He busted a stitch."

Bobby took the Gold Street exit and headed toward the bridge. Ten minutes later he was approaching the doors to One Police Plaza. He gave the gate guard a nod, having known the guy for years, before opening the door. The night sergeant on duty was Sergeant Kevin Pollock.

Going up to the desk, he rubbed at his head as he told Pollock, "I'm going to be down with Tom in the lab."

Pollock looked him over and said, "You just get out of bed?"

Bobby looked down at his sneakers, black sweatpants and white t-shirt. Shrugging he asked, "What does it matter? It's one in the morning."

Pollock shook his head as he handed him a clipboard. "Sign in," he told him before handing him a visitors badge. "So, when are you coming back, Goren? Or are you going to stay with the sex police?"

Clipping the ID to his coat, he glanced up at Pollock but didn't answer because he honestly didn't know what to say. Then, he looked up and smirked, asking, "Is there a pot going around about me?"

Pollock stilled as he innocently said, "No."

Bobby chuckled as he head over the elevators. Turning around, he said, "Hey, Pollock! Don't worry, I'll always be around."

Pollock flipped him off before sitting back down; going back to his cell phone or a magazine or something.

He took the elevator down to the floor just below the file room and walked down a long concreted brick corridor. Pushing open the door to the lab, he stepped in and spotted Tom at his desk.

Tom looked up and at seeing him, leaned back and said, "Bobby."

Approaching the desk, Bobby took out the bag and handed it to Tom. "Saliva and blood samples from Caleb Cunningham."

Tom stared up at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Do I want to know how you got the samples?"

Bobby just looked at him as Tom grabbed the bags while standing.

"I know you're not expecting me to think that he just offered them up," Tom said as he lead him through a set of swinging glass doors.

"I'm expecting you to do your job and stop asking so many questions. I'm getting you opening day box seats for the Yankees, remember."

"Great," Tom said with a smirk as he went over to a sterile metallic table and sat down. "It'll give me something to look forward to after I've been fired."

Bobby rolled his eyes as he told him, "They're not going to fire you. They might suspend me, but your job is safe. I'll tell them I forced you."

"You forced me," Tom said with a skeptical laugh. "By bribing me with Yankee tickets."

He went over to a counter and picked up another set of Q-tips. Using one, he swabbed his own cheek and gum line. After handing that over to Tom, he grabbed a scalpel.

"Whoa!"

Looking over at Tom, he barely nicked his finger on his right hand. "No worse than a paper cut," he said as he used the other Q-tip to soak up the blood. He handed that over to Tom as well. "Run it."

Tom sighed and did as he was told. Bobby watched as he prepared the samples while going over to the sink to clean the cut. He opened the first aid kit that was mounted on the wall and took out a band-aid. Looking back over at Tom, he saw him putting the samples into the machine. "It'll take a few hours."

"I've got time," he told him as he leaned against the counter.

"I know how much this is a shock, Bobby," Tom told him as he sat down in a chair and leaned back against the wall to wait.

Bobby glared over at him as he dug in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, as he headed toward the exit, he said, "Yeah, well, I never thought that my father's…adulterous lifestyle, would one day come back to bite me in the ass."

Tom stared at the machine and then sat up, letting the chairs legs bang on the floor. He barely caught the door before it shut close. Once outside, he asked him, "Can I bum one off you?"

Bobby handed Tom a smoke and lit both of them before looking around the parking lot and street. Staring up at the bridge, he took a long drag off the smoke; as he blew it out, he heard Tom.

"So, your dad was a cheat?"

Bobby glanced over at the tech as he gave a nod. Going over to the brick wall, he leaned back and stared up at the buildings and some of the sky that he could see. "You're right, I'm shocked, but only because of who it is, not…I uh, I guess I'm not too surprised that my dad fathered another child. He loved women." He tapped the ash off the cigarette before saying, "The only problem I'm having is that it-it, uh, it wasn't when he was younger, you know. Caleb is seventeen, being born in 1988..." He was stationed in Germany during that time. "My father, he uh, he started to get sick around that time. Hepatitis from all the drinking he'd done. It didn't stop him though. He kept drinking all the way up until the day he died. He developed cirrhosis and died of liver failure." He stared down at the ground as he rubbed at his head, thinking about his own dependence on alcohol.

"Were your parents still married?"

Bobby shook his head. "At that time, no. Th-they, uh…they were already divorced."

He thought about his father's apartment when he had cleaned it out. There had been evidence of him seeing a woman, but if he remembered right, the notes he did find from a woman were signed using the letter 'K', not an 'M'. That didn't mean anything, because Caleb was born in '88 and he'd found the notes in 1996. Eight years later.

Then again, Caleb and his mother were from Alabama. He didn't recall hearing his father ever going to Alabama. Yet, that didn't mean that he never did. Or that Meredith had never been to New York or Jersey…Atlantic City. His father liked to go to Jersey, to the boardwalk, every so often to gamble. He'd been to Vegas a few times as well. Maybe she liked to gamble too, or she was a cocktail waitress at one of the clubs or casino boats, or she worked at one of the hotels he stayed at.

Caleb's mother was younger than his father; many years younger. The exact year he couldn't remember but he knew that Meredith was born in the '60's. Hell, she could have been his age or younger than him. In 1988, his father would have been 58 years old. If he were 58 and a younger woman wanted to date him, would he do it?…._Yes_.

Bobby shook his head and rubbed at it. He was getting off track. The big question was: who knew. Who could have known?

Who would want to screw his life up so bad…

Breathing out, he said in a near whisper, "Nicole."

"Who?"

Glancing over at Tom, he shook his head; telling him it was nothing. It was nothing to Tom, but it was everything to him. He'd thought about the conversation they'd had on the phone a week ago. What did she say?

It was something about her being his messenger now? Bobby tried to concentrate on what Nicole had said. He wasn't exactly sober when they had talked.

"_Many things are unrelenting that plague mankind. We're all inflicted with our weakness…What plagues you?"_ Bobby rubbed at his head as he shifted the conversation over in his head. Trying to piece together her words, trying to find the connection. It always seemed like everything she said had a double meaning. She was always trying to hint at something deeper…bigger…

"_I'm thinking that you haven't found a new, uh…_replacement_."…_No, he had said that. He took a drag off the smoke as he started to pace. But, maybe Nicole had found a new replacement.

She had found Caleb.

"_And where is your little _playmate_, hm? Asleep while you're pacing around, taking comfort in the bottle instead of _in_ her. You're reminding me of your father. All you need is a mistress."_

She had said that right before telling him that he did have a mistress. A lot of them, his criminals, as she called them. They were the ones keeping him up at night. They were the ones keeping him from the woman he loved. The ones he favored over her, the ones he snuck around with while she worried…

"_What plagues you, Bobby?…What are you so afraid of that you're willing to ruin another relationship for?"_

Alex had asked him why he did that, why he tortured himself. Why he had to become a pen-pal to a killer. Why he had to go to bat for a sociopath cannibal killer.

"_Have you been watching me?"_

"_My dear Bobby, I don't need to watch you to know how you think. Remember, I've been there before. I've felt what you're feeling."_

"_And how can you know what I'm feeling, Nicole? You have to be somewhat human to _feel_."_

"_It's like a changing current inside, where nothing feels right or good. All you feel is pain, and hate, until you numb it all. What would you give to feel nothing at all?"_

He felt the cold hit him as he thought about that over and over in his head. Had she been watching him? Had she been the one following him; the one telling Caleb who he was and where he was?

And what would he give to feel nothing at all? Bobby felt his hand rubbing along his neck, starting a fire on the back of it as he kept pacing, kept smoking. The outside world completely forgotten.

"_I saw what it is that's in that bottomless pit you call a soul…Your emptiness, your darkness. Turnabout's fair play, Bobby. And now I'm your messenger."_

She had manipulated his words, twisted them around to antagonize him. He had been her messenger, the one she tried to "shoot" because he made her confront her demons. In that retrospect, she was attempting to have him face his demons?

Like he needed the help.

"_You know, I always knew you enjoyed inflicting pain on others with your so-called interrogations, but when we started our little game, I realized you needed to have the pain inflicted right back. Why do you do that? Is it some sort of idealized sense of a just world? Tit for tat, Bobby, it's the repaying of wrong done…I hurt you, so you get to hurt me right back, those are the rules of the game. A game you _made us _play."_

The repayment of a wrong or injury suffered by inflicting equivalent harm on the doer; that was the official definition of the phrase 'tit-for-tat'. And it fit perfectly to what they did to each other. They inflicted pain equally onto one another.

This was just another infliction. Another round in the game.

"_You act like such an honorable gentleman…so dignified…truth is, you get off on inflicting and enduring pain…Why, Bobby, some would call you a sadomasochist."_

He felt no sense of pleasure when he inflicted pain…Or did he? Or when he received it? How many times had he lied to a human being…How many times had he turned someone else's world completely inside out and upside down, guilty or not? How many times had he felt compelled to stop? Never; not a once. How many times would he do it again? Always. It was the nature of the beast, of who he was…Or was it something else entirely?

How many times had he wished Alex would be rougher with him during sex? How many times had he wished she'd just draw blood, make him scream out in pain…

"_Has she become more than just a warm body next to yours? Does she know all your deep, dark secrets…Trust is hard to come by for people like us. We're practically one in the same….In the warehouse, if…Bobby, if I had been in there, what would you have done?"_

"_You know what I would've done."_

"_Would you have hesitated?"_

"_Not for a second."_

"_And, what would you have felt?"_

What would he have felt if he had shot her; killed her? What he would feel…

"_Pure satisfaction in knowing that you would never be able to hurt anyone else ever again."_

He would have been satisfied in taking her life. Hero, killer, sinner, saint…he had to be all of those to be a cop. Bobby breathed out as he rubbed at his head, his eyes, and felt his hand clench.

"_So, that's how you justify murder…I should remember that. You and I, Bobby, we'll never be over. Even if you do ever kill me, I'll still be with you. Sweet dreams, darling."_

His mother may not have spawned anything like Nicole in her delusions, but had his father in real life? Was Caleb really is half-brother?

Bobby stared at the ground until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Jerking, he hit the arm away as his head snapped up and he drew his arm back as if ready to fight whoever it was who'd touched him.

"Whoa, hey," Tom jumped back, startled at him as he held his hands out in front of his. "It's just me. You were off in space. I had to make sure you hadn't checked out."

Bobby took a breath as he stared at him and then looked around then at his cigarette; it was burnt to the butt. Flicking it away in the sand ashcan by the door, he took out another and checked his watch. "How much longer? It's been an hour."

"Should be another, but let me check," Tom said as he stared at him for a long moment, looking like he wanted to ask him a question. Instead, he shook his head then opened the door and went inside.

His cell vibrated in his pocket and he again ignored it. He couldn't answer it. He didn't know what to say to her that wasn't a lie. Nothing was okay and he wasn't fine. He had no idea when he would be back home, and, if he let himself think about it too long then he would start drinking again. It wasn't a maybe, but a definite.

After smoking one more, he went back into the lab and saw Tom on the phone. With spotting him, he covered the phone and told him, "Forty more minutes."

Bobby looked around the small rooms and gave a nod before stepping out into the hallway. Going down the hall, he searched out another room and a certain CSI. He found Michelle hunched over an evidence box on the table as she documented the items for processing.

"Busy?"

Without looking up, she said, "What'd you want, Goren?"

Smiling a little as he stopped at the table, he leaned on it as he said, "I need to know if my scanner was found."

"It wasn't," she told him as she finally looked up at him. "We found your jacket and shotgun shells, nothing else."

Bobby sighed heavily as he thought about that. Either Caleb had another hideout, or someone else had his scanner. And if he was right about Nicole, that meant her. Making her once again one step ahead of him.

"Shouldn't you be in a hospital room yourself, getting some sleep. I heard you were hit by a patrol car."

"I'm fine," he mindlessly replied his typical answer. He needed to go back to that apartment and check it for himself. Not that he didn't think that the CSI's didn't know how to do their jobs, but because they didn't know what to look for when it came to Nicole. And if she was involved, he knew that she would want him to know exactly how close he'd come. How he had let her slip away yet again.

Michelle was staring up at him; a little teasing in her eyes as she said, "Yeah, you're perfectly fine. I get off in an hour…Want to get a drink?"

Bobby blinked back and shook his head as he straightened off the table. "I'm-"

"I know you're with Detective Eames, Goren. I wasn't asking you on a date. It's a drink. Nothing more. You look like you could use one."

He could, but…Bobby felt his head start to ache along with the rest of his body. The pain was getting worse, meaning his medication was wearing off. "I can't, but, uh, thanks…for the offer," he told her as he turned to leave the room.

"Hey! Goren, just out of curiosity, are you staying with SVU?"

Bobby smirked as he shook his head. "You gotta do better than that."

"I was trying, but you turned me down on the drink!" She went back to the evidence while he pushed open the door. "By the way, I got you as coming back. This is where you belong."

"One would think," he muttered as he stepped out into the hall, thinking. Quite honestly, he hadn't thought about whether or not he would return to Major Case. It was only a temporary transfer to SVU, for the duration of the case, and now that the case was coming to a close it was time he considered his options. There were only two: stay with SVU or return to Major Case. Rubbing at the back of his neck as he walked, he realized he wasn't sure of which he preferred.

He went back out into the cold night, smoked a few more, and then returned to the lab room. Tom was printing off a couple of result sheets. Looking up at him, he held them out for him to take.

Bobby hesitantly took them but didn't look at them just yet. He couldn't. Folding them up, he stuffed them into his jacket pocket and left without saying another word.

* * *

><p><em><span>Bobby &amp; Alex's Apartment<span>_

The light was on in the kitchen so he knew she was still up, waiting for him. Using his key, he opened the door and walked in. He locked the door behind him and checked the alarm. He heard her before he saw her and the moment the looked around the corner into the kitchen, he saw her. Alex was on her knees in front of the refrigerator; her hair was pulled up into a ponytail and she was scrubbing hard over the interior of fridge. Food containers and bottles, plastic bottles, and cartons were scattered around her as she stopped scrubbing and looked up at him.

She studied him for a long moment and then huffed out a puff of air as she went back to cleaning.

Bobby felt the sting in his chest but smiled despite himself. He played with his keys as he leaned against the side of the refrigerator. "I should have answered your calls, I'm sorry," was all he could get out as she ignored him.

Alex reached up and wiped at her forehead before dunking the washcloth in the small tub of soapy water next to her knee. She didn't look at him as she went back to wiping down the door of the refrigerator.

Bobby sighed as he looked around the kitchen. It looked in order, reorganized, and very clean. The only thing not in its place was the mop handle sticking out of his sink. Feeling the frustration building, he tossed his keys on the table as sat down in the chair. "I don't…You get mad at me when I go off and drink, but when I don't, you still get mad at me. At least I came home this time."

Alex threw the washcloth down in the tub and sighed heavily as she gripped her knees. Then she started picking up items and putting them back in to the refrigerator. "And that makes it so much better? You came home," she sarcastically snared back. "You should have never left to begin with. You should have stayed and talked to me about whatever it was that set you off."

Bobby knew she was right, but he panicked and had no idea how to tell her. Leaning on the table, he told her, "I couldn't, okay. I just…I panicked."

"Why can't you confide in me? I'm your girlfriend, your partner. But like always, it's a waste of time waiting for you to actually confide in anyone. Forgive me for thinking that we actually have a relationship."

"Don't say that," he nearly snapped. "We have a relationship."

"One that's based on no communication whatsoever. I asked you what was going on and you left. When I tried calling, you didn't answer." Alex put the last carton in the refrigerator before getting up. She slammed it shut, the only real indication to how upset she was, before going over to the sink. "You're so confusing, you know that? Tonight, you wanted me to reconsider moving out yet you resort back to your old ways of ignoring me when something happens," she vented as she emptied the tub and then rung out the mop. "I'm sorry, Bobby, but I don't want to continue living with a wall. I'm tired of beating my head against you, hoping that one day you'll actually value-"

"I value you," he snapped as he glared over at her but only seeing her back.

"Clearly not enough," she snapped as she finally turned around to face him. Alex crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. "You look sober."

Bobby barely controlled the anger that wanted to explode at that contradiction to his value of her. He did value her, he just…Shaking his head, he didn't know what was wrong with him. He didn't know why he couldn't convey that to her as strongly as she needed him to. Instead, he replied to her last statement, muttering as he looked to the table, "I am sober." Running his hand through his hair, he tried to think of what to tell her. He had nothing because he wasn't ready to acknowledge it, especially to Alex. "I'm not going to lie and tell you I wasn't tempted, I was."

"If it wasn't to a bar then where-" she was cut off by the ringing of a cell phone.

Bobby dug into his jacket pocket and pulled it out. The call was from an extension at the hospital. Muting it, he tossed it on the table.

"You should answer it."

He shook his head, saying, "It's nothing, and we're talking."

"It could be import-"

"This is what we do, isn't it?" he said, cutting her off. "We yell and fight and try to talk and reason ourselves back to a place of normal. Are we just tricking ourselves? Is it that we just want to love each other so much that we're lying…trying to make it real and work when it obviously can't?"

Alex sighed and leaned against the counter. Taking a breath, she answered, "I don't know, Bobby. I hope not, because I love it when I love you. I love it when we're happy together." She looked away before saying, "Things were only getting better because you were back to work, but things aren't better. We've just been postponing-"

"I know," he agreed. Taking a breath, he pushed the chair back and leaned on his knees, staring down at the floor. He was so tired, and not just physically, but emotionally. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't keep pretending that he was getting better. He couldn't keep pretending that they were getting better. "But I don't know how to get us back to…whatever it was that made us…_good_ for each other, Alex."

"I do," she said, making him look up at her. Alex moved away from the counter and stepped toward him as she said, "We believed in each other. We supported one another. And we loved being together. That's what we do. I'm not expecting every day to be sunshine and roses, because they're not. This is real and things happen, bad things, but that doesn't mean that we can't love each other through the bad. That is what's supposed to make us stronger as a couple." She stared down at him as she leaned into the table.

"I hear a 'but' coming on," he said as Alex gave a soft nod.

"But, you never see it that way. You think that if bad things happen and we're yelling and fighting because life sucks, that we can't continue loving one another."

Bobby looked away from her eyes as he thought about that. "Maybe…maybe because that's what the fighting always meant."

"Not with me."

"Yes, with you," he refuted as he glanced back up at her. "You left me once because of it. My anger issues, my, uh…inability to trust, the fact that I can't stand it if anyone contradicts me, or tells me I'm wrong. You've said before that I'm impossible, and you're right, I am. The fact that I'm forty-three years old and never been married or had never been in a seriously intimate relationship should have been a dead giveaway. You're the first real relationship I've ever had with a woman, and look at us. We're a mess because I'm a mess, Alex. If you tell me I'm wrong, you're lying to yourself. I mean, yeah, I-I have so much…_confidence _when it comes to my job. When I'm working, I know exactly who I am, my abilities and what I can do, and what I'm capable of. My job has been the definition of me for my entire adult life. It's who I am. To know that I don't have that same confidence in my relationships…it scares me. I don't know what I'm capable of when it comes to loving somebody else. And the more we're together, and the more I see how badly I can screw things up, the worse I get."

"At least you're trying."

"Better to love and lost than to have never loved at all…Is that what you're telling me?" he bitterly asked as he straightened in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest; feeling the need to protect himself like always. "Love hurts. Love makes me do crazy and stupid things. I can't trust myself-"

"And that's the point, at least that's what you once told a murderer."

Rubbing at his aching, pounding head, he said, "I've told murderers lots of things, some true, some not…Sometimes I forget what's what."

Alex gave a nod as she took that in. They were silent for a long moment, both thinking, before she told him, "I still think we can fix this."

Taking his eyes off the table he'd been staring at, he asked, "How are we going to fix this? How on earth can we possibly fix this when I'm the problem? I mean, the only reason you're here now is because I manipulated you."

"You didn't-"

"I told you I loved you. Don't get me wrong, I do, Alex, but, in my head…I was thinking if I said it…you wouldn't leave. I thought…this will make you stay. I can't help doing it. I've been doing it since I was a kid. Lying to my mother, my father, teachers, even to you. The silent treatments, the-the fighting, telling you things I've never told anyone…"

"You told me those things because you love me and you wanted me to know. You felt I deserved to know because we're together."

"I felt desperate," he honestly told her. He felt ashamed to admit it, but it was the truth. "I was lost and confused and scared…It wasn't about what you deserved, it was about winning you back. It was about keeping you with me. I didn't want you to leave me. That was all I could think about. I never wanted to tell you any of those things. I never wanted you to know." And he still didn't, that was why he was ignoring the fact that he wasn't telling her about Caleb. He didn't want her to know. It wasn't for her to know, to bear, to have to deal with. It was his. "I was manipulating you."

Alex huffed out a bitter laugh as she stared at him. She looked him over for a long time, giving both of them time to think and calm down. "Bobby, you weren't manipulating anyone, yet alone me. Do I look like an idiot to you?"

He glanced up at her and shook his head.

"Good, because I'm not. I also know that you have a very screwed up way of seeing things. It's not your fault, you can't help it. What you see as manipulation, I see as you finally sharing yourself. Granted, you could have done it at a better time, but you can't. You have to be in an argument or in an confrontation, you have to feel like you've got no other choice to finally let me in. That makes you think that you're only doing it because you're trying to keep me with you. Or that you're manipulating me. You have to feel like the victim."

"That's not true; I-"

"Yes, it is," she stressed as she held her ground and eyed him. "How can it not be? Listen to yourself and then honestly tell me that _I'm wrong_."

He glanced up at her briefly before looking away. He had no way of answering that because he suddenly felt that she was right. And how he hated that she was right. "Yes, okay. Fuck, Alex, it's…I'm not-…Dammit, why can't you just leave it alone," he angrily snapped. He bolted out of the chair and started to pace around as he felt the anger pushing at his control.

"Our relationship is falling apart and you want me to leave it alone? Why don't you man-up and stop lying to me and actually tell me what in the hell's going on with you? You don't think I'm not seeing what's going on here? Instead of talking to me about what happened tonight, you're picking a fight so you can continue ignoring-"

"Alex-"

"Stop running, Bobby. You want confidence in your relationships, stop being such a coward and-"

"I'm a coward? You're the one moving out and running away!"

Alex went to snap something back when she caught herself. She took a breath and looked away.

Bobby stopped pacing and leaned back against the counter. He worked his jaw as he said, "I didn't mean that."

He took a much needed breath of his own as he stared at the floor. Alex had done that to defuse the situation, and he was glad because he was so angry he would have said anything to piss her off. He felt he didn't deserve her being there. Maybe he wanted to make her mad enough to leave…It wouldn't be the first time he'd resorted back to that act of self-preservation.

"It's late," she suddenly said as she approached him. "You're tired, I'm-" Alex went to reach for his face when he pulled away.

"You're right in moving out, you should," he said, cutting her off as he stared down at her. "It's just…the changes, you know, a lot of it's going around." He looked away, back at the floor.

"What happened?" she asked again, trying one last time to get him to talk. "Why did you leave like that?"

Bobby rubbed a hand over his face and eyes, giving a shake of his head as he couldn't tell her. He could barely admit it to himself.

Alex sighed heavily as she stared up him. Reaching out again, he stepped away and went over to the sink. As he started to put the cleaning bottles up and put the mop back in the tub, he heard her leave the room. Once done putting away, he left the kitchen and went into the study and shut the door. Sitting heavily at his desk, he took out the folded sheets of paper, let out a breath and then unfolded the sheets.

He stared at the results feeling his chest clench as his body tingled and twitched with anger. Shaking his head, he tossed the paper on the desk and buried his head in his hands. It was confirmed, and now he was 99.9 percent certain that he had a half-brother who was a sociopath.

How could this have happened? Fisting his hair in his hands, he thought about everything until it ached with so much pain it was nearly intolerable. Sighing, he leaned back in the chair and stared down at the bottom drawer to his desk. His fingers twitched to open it as he warred within himself to give in or not. Gripping the handle, he pulled it open. Sitting in the bottom it at the back was a bottle. Pulling out the scotch, he got up and went to the kitchen for a glass.

As he opened the cabinet and got a glass, he heard his cell phone vibrating on the table. Ignoring it, he halfway filled the glass and downed the scotch before filling the glass all the way. He took a sip of the second glass as he leaned on the counter. The cell buzzed again and he looked over at it with a groan of frustration.

Taking another sip as he walked over to the table, he picked up the cell and flipped it open. "Yeah, Goren," he said into the phone as he took a bigger gulp.

"Bobby, it's Captain Deakins. I need you to get over here to the hospital."

He sat the glass down as he tried to understand why Deakins was calling, and from the hospital. "What is-"

"Goren, that's an order. And get Eames here too," Deakins told him before hanging up.

Bobby flipped the cell shut and finished off the second glass before heading to the bedroom.

Alex wasn't yet asleep as he walked in. She was lying in bed, facing the door, and she looked saddened, disappointed, and just plain heartbreaking.

Looking down at her, Bobby said, "We're needed at the hospital."

She wordlessly got up and got changed as he did the same. He took off the sweatpants and pulled on a pair of loose-fitting jeans. Taking down a button-down shirt, he put it on over his white t-shirt. Grabbing his gun, shield and keys from the kitchen, he slung on his jacket as he waited for Alex by the backdoor.

Alex walked through the kitchen as she clipped her shield on her belt and telling him, "You forgot to put the bottle up, Bobby. I'm driving."

He looked over at the counter and saw the bottle of scotch sitting unopened on it as she passed by him.

* * *

><p><em><span>New York City Downtown Hospital<span>_

The moment they walked into the hospital, Bobby knew something had happened. He wasn't sure if it had anything to do with Elliot or with Caleb. There were police everywhere as well as a CSU team. Rounding a corner to the nurse's desk, they spotted Captain Deakins talking on his cell phone.

Deakins spotted them and waved them over as he got off the phone. He was furious as his neck flared red the closer he got. The captain stared at him for a long moment before crossing his arms, ready to confront him. "You went in alone to Caleb's hospital room."

Bobby glanced over to Alex who was always staring at him. "Yeah, but-"

Deakisn cut him off as he said, "He's dead, detective. Someone ripped all his stitches out and beat his face in until it was unrecognizable. I get here and guess what the cop on guard duty tells me? The last person who was seen with him besides the nurse who reported it, was you."

He was…Caleb was dead? Bobby stepped back at that as he struggled to breathe again.

"The cop also told me that you told him to take a smoke break while you went in there alone to question him. How stupid are you, Goren? You talked to him without a lawyer present."

"He didn't ask for one," was all he could get out of his dry mouth.

Deakins stared harder at him, growing more red. "That's besides the point! There was no one in there to say whether or not you did this!"

"I didn't!" Bobby finally snapped back.

Deakins shook his head at him as he said, "Cragen is on his way. I can't do it because I'm no longer your superior, but I'm sure you're looking at a suspension in your very near future. Pending an autopsy to determine cause of death and whether or not you're to be held accountable…" he trailed off as he shook his head. "Jesus, Bobby, what in the hell were you thinking?"

He couldn't answer that as he stared down at the floor. Rubbing at his head, he tried to think as he rushed to clear his own name. Taking a breath, he said, "It's Nicole." Looking up, he saw the startled and confused look in Deakins eyes.

"Wallace? And why would she have done this?" Deakins asked skeptically.

Bobby glanced to Alex and then back to him, saying, "Because, I have reason to believe that she was working with him."

Alex spoke up, saying, "That phone call you got from her last week; she said something to you?"

"The cop at the door said that after I left the only other person to enter that room was a nurse he flagged down, right? That's means he didn't call the desk, he saw a nurse in the hall and called her over. If she was here, and watching, waiting to go into Caleb's room…who's to say that it wasn't Nicole the cop waved over?" Bobby asked as he pleaded his case. "Look, we're still at a stand still with the Gardner case and I think I now know why. No one who could have possible have done it, who had the motive, are the ones who actually killed him. I don't know why yet, but I'm certain now that Nicole is the one that killed Gardner."

"Oh, Christ," Deakins said as he placed his hands on his hips and stared at him.

"We found a needle in his arm, right? But we never figured out why…Nicole usually always kills someone with a needle, by way of poisoning. She was trying to let me know it was her all along."

They were all silent for a long moment before Alex said, "I can get started on talking to all the nurses on this floor. We should also get security footage of all the entrances and exits. Nicole had to get in here somehow."

"Logan should be here soon if he isn't already," Deakins told her. "When he shows, fill him in."

Bobby watched as Alex glared at him, shook her head, and then walked away toward the nurse's desk. Turning to Deakins, he asked, "Am I still suspended?"

Deakins gave him a ridiculous look as he said, "Like I said, until the autopsy comes back."

"What the hell is going on here?"

They both looked over to see Captain Cragen walking down the hall. He was looking pissed off with his overcoat crumpled and his hat in his hand. Bobby stepped away to let Deakins fill Cragen in as he headed toward a door that led out into the courtyard. He pulled the soft pack of cigarettes out as he pushed the door open slightly as he took out his lighter. As he took a couple of puffs and blew the smoke out the door, Cragen walked over to him.

The SVU captain looked him over before telling him, "You already know the drill."

Bobby gave a nod as he took another drag off the cigarette while pulling his shield out of his pocket. He handed it over as calmly as he could before going back to smoking and ignoring the captain. When Cragen still didn't leave, he looked back at him and waited.

"There's a meeting on Monday at six. If you want to go, you have my number," Cragen told him before walking away.

Bobby stood at the opened door and leaned against the frame as he worked on the cigarette and thought about what just happened. He'd found out in the worst way that he had a half-brother, and now that brother was dead and most likely at the hands of Nicole Wallace. It was inevitable; Nicole always killed, or tried to kill off, her partners. Caleb wasn't an exception. In fact, he thought maybe Nicole just did it to torture him some more.

Now he couldn't talk to Caleb. He wouldn't be able to get any answers from him. He was left to figure it all out for himself. He was left to wonder and search and live with it all on his own. He wondered if Nicole had told Caleb that they were brothers before killing him.

Letting out a deep breath of air into the cold air that was blowing through the open door, he finished the cigarette and closed the door. He searched out Alex and found her in a room filled with video cameras.

She was nursing a cup of hospital coffee and watching surveillance footage. When she looked up at him, he could tell that she didn't want to speak with him.

"I'm-"

"I'll see you later, Bobby. I have to work," she said angrily, bitterly, as she turned her attention back to the televisions.

He felt that dismissal all the way to his heart and down to his soul. Bobby stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away. Logan nearly collided with him as he turned.

"Hey, Bobby, watch it," Logan said as he jerked his arms around, saving the coffee from being spilt all over the both of them.

"Sorry," he muttered as he went to walk away.

"No problem, hey," Logan said, stopping him from walking way. "I heard about-"

"Not now, Logan," Bobby said as he pulled away and went to leave. As he went to step away, he smelt a scent in the air. It was a perfume smell…Sensuous by Estée Lauder. Turning back to Logan, he asked, "The reason you were late getting here…You were on a date?"

Logan bulked and stared at him before smirking. "Sad part was I had to leave her alone at the bar while I was called out to clean up your mess," he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Bobby watched as Logan went into the room with Alex and handed her a fresh cup of coffee. Working his jaw, he walked away with his head down and he left the hospital.

* * *

><p><em><span>Stevie Ray's<span>_

_East Harlem, Manhattan_

He'd walked around the city and the boroughs more than he'd ever driven around them, so the long walk wasn't minded. Normally he would've taken the train but he didn't feel like dealing with it. He needed to walk and to think while he walked. He passed the East Village, through the streets that would have taken him to Logan's apartment, and continued passed Midtown Manhattan, Central Park and the Upper East Side condos until he arrived in East Harlem. Or as the residence and many New Yorkers coined the neighborhood: Spanish Harlem.

Approaching the corner, he spotted the familiar neon sign and the blue rhythm and blues guitar that hung above the bar's name: _Stevie Ray's_. The blues & rock bar was relatively empty at four in the morning as he walked in. Everyone who had been enjoying the nightlife were already home in bed or at some other party or club by now. The house music was on, playing a song by the bar's namesake, Stevie Ray Vaughan, called '_I'm Cryin'_'.

Bobby slid onto a bar stool and without having to think about it ordered a scotch, four fingers worth, and a beer. Any thoughts about staying sober had been abandoned earlier that night. He took a cigarette out along with his lighter and lit one.

Taking his cell phone out, he placed it in front of him on the bar top so he could see and hear it if it went off. There were two reasons why he choose that bar instead of his usual neighborhood hangout. One, no one would find him there because no one knew to ever look for him in Spanish Harlem. The second was because of the woman who had introduced him to the bar four years ago. Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearly five in the morning.

He heard the house music switch to a different song, this one by B.B. King called '_The Thrill is Gone_'. By the time the blues song ended, he was done with his beer and halfway through the scotch when he felt someone sit down next to him. A familiar scent, and one he had smelt earlier at the hospital whiffed through the air…Sensuous by Estée Lauder.

A slow smile spread over his face as he turned around to face the woman. She had dark chocolate eyes, black wavy hair, caramel colored skin, and she so reminded him of the actress Dorothy Dandridge in her looks. She was absolutely gorgeous. Not knowing what to say, he simply said, "Long time…I didn't know if you still came in here."

"Occasionally I do," she told him as she took off her jacket and laid it over the back of the barstool. "Funny thing was, I was just in here an hour ago and one my way home when I got the strangest phone call. A friend told me that Bobby Goren was back in here and thought that I might've had something to do with it."

"A friend, huh?" Bobby asked as he looked around. "Uh, who might that have been?"

The woman smiled at him as she looked up at the bartender. "Jimmy, how about a martini."

"Sure thing, Denise," the bartender told her as he started fixing her the drink.

Bobby stared at Jimmy the bartender as he took a drag off the cigarette. He had thought he recognized the guy, but it had been roughly three years since the last time he'd been in that bar. "Your friend has a good memory."

Denise just smiled over at him. "So, what're you doing in Spanish Harlem on a night like this?"

Shaking his head, he felt himself smile as he told his ex-girlfriend, "I needed a drink."

"And I know for a fact there are hundreds of other places you could've gone."

"I like this one. The music's better than most other places," Bobby told her as he watched as she went to pay for the martini. "I got it."

"Bobby," she warned as she dug into her purse.

"Don't 'Bobby' me, I hate when you do that," he told her as he tossed some money down on the bar.

She watched him for a moment then asked, "When did you start smoking?"

He gave it some thought but finally shook his head, answering, "I don't remember."

"Mind if I have one?" she asked and that was when he remembered one of the reasons they hadn't worked out.

She smoked, and he didn't. Now, he found that amusing as he laughed a little as he took one out of the pack and handed it to her before flicking open his lighter.

"Oh my God, what happened?" Denise took hold of his injured hand and examined it as he lit her cigarette.

"It's nothing."

She gave him an incredulous look as he snapped the lighter shut and put it down on the bar top next to the cold beer bottle that was placed in front of him. As they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, '_Help Me_' by Sonny Boy Williamson blared over the growing chatter of the people talking between a break in the set by the band. The way that man played the harmonica always made him close his eyes and listen. It was beautiful.

Clearly his throat, he asked, "So, what were you doing in here earlier?"

Denise sipped on her glass as she told him, "I had a date and my cousins were playing here with their band."

Bobby nodded as he opened his eyes to peer over at her through half-closed eyelids. The alcohol was setting in, reminding him that he was drinking on an empty stomach, and it was getting harder to do things like see and think and feel. This was exactly what he was in search of. Not the darkness in his head, or the anger in his gut, but this…emptiness. "What instruments?"

Denise smiled softly as she pointed up to a picture hanging on the wall over the liquor bottles. "Bass player and the saxophonist."

Bobby looked up at the picture and saw the two men who were frozen in time joking around on stage as they picked up their instruments. He knew of Denise's ancestry; her father was mixed, having both black and white parents. While her father was serving in the Marines, he went to the Philippines and met Denise's mother. From the ethnicity of her cousins, he would guess they were on her father's side of the family. "Your father's side, right?"

"They're his brother's kids. They moved up here a few years ago from North Carolina."

"I've been down there, to Fort Bragg. Did some hunting."

"You don't hunt."

Looking at her, he said, "You're right, I don't, but I did when I was there. It was actually a lot of fun. I didn't kill anything, though I tried to get this one deer…" At seeing the look on her face, he stopped talking. Then he asked, "How did the date go?"

Denise turned her eyes back to the stage as she said, "He had to work and I have to work this afternoon. We ended it early." The smile she gave him had him smiling right back.

Tapping the ashes off his cigarette, he said, "I wished you were still working for the Chief's office. Every time I have to see Chief Yarrow, I hate not seeing you there."

She leaned on her right hand, staring over at him with that light teasing smile of hers that he always loved. He mocked her position by leaning on his left hand, staring right back at her and waited for her to respond back to him. "He had his own assistant who'd been with him since he was Assistant Chief. It was the right time to leave."

"Are you enjoying working for that lawyer?"

Giving a soft chuckle, she told him, "I do all the work while he takes all the credit. Do you know what he does all day while I'm busting my ass putting his case together? Playing golf, going to hockey games, cheating on his wife."

"If you're not happy-"

"No, the job is good, and I am happy. It's more challenging than being the Chief of D's assistant. Better pay too."

Bobby finished off his scotch and gestured for another for the both of them as he took a sip of the beer.

"I thought I told you that I have to work."

"It's one more," he told her as the bartender sat his scotch in front of him and mixed her another martini. "Besides, I've missed talking to you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he knew that was when she had something serious to ask him. Denise finished off her first drink and sat it down as she turned to him.

"All right, guys, last call," the bartender said into a microphone behind the bar as John Lee Hooker's '_Boom Boom_' started to play over the speakers.

Denise asked over the music, "Is this all this is, a talk?"

Bobby wasn't surprised by that question; the last time they had gotten a drink together to have a talk back in 2002, they had ended up at her apartment. "I'm with someone. How 'bout you?"

"Speaking of Detective Eames, where is she?"

Bobby noticed her diversion tactic as he picked up the drink, saying, "Working."

"So this is you not wanting to go back to your apartment without her. Why don't you go to hers."

"We live together."

She raised her eyes at that, then said, "You swore to me that you could never live with a woman."

"And that would be why she's currently in the process of moving out," he said a little too sternly as he took a drink of the scotch.

They sat for awhile, listening to the music and thinking. He was thinking about a lot of things as he slowly took a drag off the smoke and sipped on his scotch. He really didn't want to think about the real reason he was drinking. He didn't want to think of Nicole or Caleb.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want, Goren."

Giving a nod, he felt his frustration ease as he told her, "Good, because I don't." Bobby saw her put the cigarette butt out and asked, "Another?" as he picked two out of the glass. He needed another. The house music was now playing '_I Put A Spell On You_' by Screamin' Jay Hawkins as he handed Denise another cigarette.

He found himself scooting closer to her across the bar as he leaned in to light it for her. "Goren…Bobby…I remember when you used to call me baby…sweetie…"

She glanced up at him as he snapped the lighter shut. Neither of them looked away from each other as she continued to look him in the eyes as he roamed his over her face, to her lips. He remembered the way she used to kiss him. How good it felt, how it had helped to ease all his pain away. There was no desire in him to have sex with her, he just really wanted to kiss her one last time. Leaning forward, all he could manage to do was bury his head against her neck as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Go home, Bobby," Denise told him as he closed his eyes and breathed out deeply against her skin. Her arms unwrapped from around his neck as she whispered, "Go, let your woman be the one to hold you."

Giving a nod, he leaned back as he looked her over. "You're dating someone, a cop…Mike Logan."

Denise looked wide-eyed at him in surprise. "How'd-"

Bobby sat back and sighed as he rubbed over his head and face. "We're…We _were_," he corrected, "partners, when I was transferred to Staten Island. He's with Major Case now." That didn't answer her question, but he saw her accept it as one.

"I knew there had to be a reason for you showing up here," she told him as she tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. "Are you going to tell me not to date him?"

Shaking his head, Bobby told her, "I wanted…um, I needed to see that you were okay, I guess. He's, a good cop. I don't know too much about him personally, but, he seems like a good guy…He saved my life."

"I recall him mentioning that," she said with a saddening smile. "Probably why he knew we once dated. I told him we did."

He stared into her eyes, trying to gauge her emotions before leaning in closer; sternly, he told her, "If he _ever_ hurts you…"

"I'll let you know, right after my cousins," she winked as she picked up his cell phone off the bar top. It was ringing and vibrating. "You know I will always love you, but it's different now. You were always a better friend to me than a lover, Bobby. Let's keep it that way."

He took his phone from her as he stared over at her. "I'm sorry for that, for everything. I'm better now, I think…Alex, she helps."

Denise smiled happily at him. "It's a great feeling, isn't it?"

"It's an fucking amazing feeling…I never thought I'll ever feel that way, not for anyone." Sliding off the stool, he picked up his jacket as he leaned down. Placing a soft kiss on her cheek, he said, "Thank you."

"For turning your drunken ass down?"

"For setting my drunken ass straight," he told her as he slipped his jacket slowly over his injured hand. "I hope that…he deserves you, because you're wonderful, and you deserve a wonderful guy. You know that, right?"

Smiling up at him, she shook her head at him, "Always the charmer. Need me to hail you a cab?"

"I got it," he told her.

"If you ever need to talk…"

Smiling slightly, he told her, "I still got your number. You have a good night."

"You too, Bobby Goren."

He slowly eased his way out of the bar as Joe Louis Walker serenaded '_Night Time_' over the loud speakers. As he walked to the subway, he had that song stuck in his head as he flipped his cell phone open and made a call.

* * *

><p><em><span>Liz and Terry's House<span>_

_Staten Island_

It had been a long day. After getting all they could at the hospital, her and Logan had gone back to 1PP and sorted through the video footage they had collected. There was no real good still shot of the woman they believed to have been Nicole Wallace coming in and going out a back exit by the loading docks, but it was good enough for it to be confirmed that it could have been her. The autopsy of Caleb Cunningham had to wait in line and was scheduled for tomorrow. Feeling exhausted and no longer able to think properly, she had gone home for half the day and slept while Logan stayed at work. He told her that he would call if something came up; nothing did.

Logan had taken the rest of the day, telling Deakins that they would be in tomorrow. Alex had decided to follow Logan's plan and instead of going back in, she went to her sisters. She had told Liz that she would watch Nathan today so her and Terry could finally go out as an adult couple and do some adult things.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, eating dinner with Nathan as Liz walked in wearing a beautiful black dress with ridiculously high heels. "Wow."

Liz smiled as she put in an earring. "I do look good, don't I?"

"The price of having a kid without actually giving birth," she said as she took a sip of the water in her glass. Liz gave her a look and Alex waved it off. "I didn't mean to make that sound like a bad thing."

"You're mad about something," Liz said as she walked over and sat down beside her at the table.

They both watched as Nathan shoved a fork full of spaghetti into his mouth and getting sauce all over his cheeks and nose. With a giggle, Nathan tried to lick it all off with his tongue.

Alex smiled at her nephew as she took a bite of her own piece of garlic bread. Feeling Liz's eyes on her, she said, "I don't know where he is."

"Who, Bobby?"

"Who else," she said she as she picked up her half-eaten plate of food and took it to the sink. She couldn't eat; her stomach was twisting in knots with not only because of Bobby's sudden disappearance but of what she found out that day. It didn't have to go public, but since it was important, and the reason Bobby had been in that hospital room alone, was because DNA had proven that Caleb Cunningham had been Bobby's biological half-brother. That was the phone call he'd received last night and why he had left.

Alex had a feeling it was also the reason why he was still gone. However, she wasn't about to tell Liz all of that. "When I got back to the apartment this morning, his car was gone. He never came back home before I left to come here and whenever I try calling him and it goes straight to voicemail."

Liz was quiet for a moment before asking, "You don't think he's with someone else, do you?"

It took Alex a moment to understand what Liz had suggested. She turned around from cleaning her plate and nearly dropping it as she defended Bobby, "No, of course not. Bobby's not like that. He wouldn't-"

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Liz asked as she grabbed a rag and started to clean Nathan's face.

Alex sighed and shook her head. "I'm not trying to convince anyone because I know he's not with another woman. If anything, he's passed out drunk on his friend Lewis's couch."

"Then why don't you call Lewis?"

Alex rinsed the plate off as she thought of her answer to that. The answer was she had already called Lewis and he hadn't seen or heard from Bobby in days. She highly doubted that his brother knew where he was. Bobby and Frank hardly kept in contact with one another, and besides that she didn't even have Frank's phone number. The only other family he had was his mother, and she didn't know if he would be at Carmel Ridge in his condition or not. It was a possibility.

"You called him already."

Alex turned to face her sister and sighed. Sometimes she hated it that she knew her so well. "Yes, and he wasn't there either. He wasn't at SVU or with Elliot."

Liz dumped Nathan's plate in the sink as she asked, "I take it Elliot's a cop too?"

"A detective friend of ours who works with Bobby at SVU," Alex told her as she helped Nathan out of his dirty shirt. It was covered in sauce and the spaghetti he didn't get in his mouth. "He's recovering from an incident on the job, and I thought maybe he had stopped by his hospital room. He didn't. The last time anyone saw or heard from Bobby was at four in the morning when we were all at the hospital for this case." She took a glance at the clock and saw that it had been almost fifteen hours since anyone last heard from him.

And with knowing that Nicole Wallace had been watching him all along, and him not answering, she was about to send out a search party. She couldn't deal with trying to find him again. She couldn't deal with some psycho taking him again and not knowing where he was at and what was being done to him. That sense of worry made her dig out her cell phone as she followed Nathan to the bathroom to give him a bath.

Terry finally emerged from the bedroom dressed in a nice suit and tie. He smiled at her as she looked up at him. "Thanks again, Alex, for watching him tonight."

"It was my idea, remember. You two just have fun."

He gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading out into the living room where he met his wife by the door. "Don't wait up!" Terry called out before the door was shut behind them.

Alex found the number for Carmel Ridge as she turned the water on and plugged the tub. Nathan grabbed a big bottle blue bottle with cartoon characters on it and carried it to her. It was bubbles to make a bubble bath. Alex poured some into the tub as Nathan tried to jump in with his pants and diaper still on.

"Whoa, mister, not so fast," she laughed as she barely caught him. "You need to take your clothes off first." Nathan laughed as he wiggled out of his pants and undid his own diaper. Alex thought it was time to start potty training the kid.

As Nathan splashed around in the tub, she placed the call to the center where Bobby's mother lived and waited impatiently for an answer.

* * *

><p><em><span>Carmel Ridge Center<span>_

_Carmel, New York_

Her breathing finally evened out as she drifted into a deep sleep. He watched as her chest steadily raised up and down with her breathing, saw the rapid movement of her eyes under her eyelids, and heard the soft inhale then exhale of air. Once he was able to catch his own breath, he relaxed his hold on her as he lifted her and eased her down into the bed. The nurse adjusted the sheets around his mother's sedative body and checked her pulse. When she moved to restraints, he stepped away as he also looked away.

Taking a breath, he walked around the bed and sat heavily on the couch against the wall and closed his eyes. His own was pounding along with the spot on his face she had hit with her delicate hand. His face was bruising along with her knuckles and he reached up to rub his cheek. He had saw it coming on, her anger and then the break, but he couldn't stop himself. The questioning and his constant need to know, along with his own anger, had won out and he'd pushed her too far.

Because of him, his mother had collapsed and broken. Then she had hit him; hard. Sitting up, he buried his throbbing head in his hands and tried to calm himself down. He was still wound up and so desperate for an answer, for some kind of truth, that he felt like exploding.

Everything he knew about his life and family was falling apart, and mostly because things weren't adding up. He couldn't get past his father's health during the time when Caleb would have been conceived. He couldn't get past Meredith Cunningham's age during that same time. He couldn't get past the his own feeling of something else being a play.

It felt wrong. Something wasn't right with all of this, but the one thing that he was certain of, the one thing that he had proof of, was the DNA results and that Caleb was his half-brother. Same father, different mother. His father was an adulterer. He knew it for a fact because his father had taken him along with him a lot of times as a kid to Maggie's apartment. He'd seen and felt first-hand his father's vices. So why was he having a feeling that something in this whole situation wasn't right? And why was his mother refusing to answer him? He could read his mother better than anyone and he knew she was holding back. He knew she was lying to him. It was either to protect him or, and he was afraid to say it, but to protect her own self.

Even though it hurt, and he hated to admit it, his mother never really cared too much about him. She never cared too much about his feelings and about protecting him. If anything, she would be protecting herself. He wanted to call his brother; he needed to talk to Frank. He also wanted to test Frank's DNA against his own. He wasn't sure why, but the more his mother refused to answer him, the worse the feeling got. The more the idea grew that his family wasn't what he'd always thought it to be.

"Mr. Goren, visiting hours are over. She'll be asleep at least for-"

"I know," he said, cutting the nurse off as he got up off the couch. As he left his mother's room another nurse was approaching.

"Oh, Mr. Goren, I was just coming to see if you were still here."

"What is it?" he asked as he started for the doors to get out of his mother's wing.

"A woman, Alex Eames, called to see if you were here. I told her that you were. I have her on hold if-"

Bobby closed his eyes as he rubbed his head. He couldn't talk Alex yet, especially not there. "Tell her I'm leaving now and on my way home."

"Okay," the nurse said as they exited through the door together. "But she sounds worried and I think it'll be best if you told her."

He glanced over at the nurse and sighed as she went to the desk and held up the phone for him to take. Bobby stared at the nurse as he took the phone and held it up to his ear. He could hear Alex on the other end; she was talking to someone but her voice was light and easy, and cooing. She was with her nephew. Turning away from the nurse, he leaned against the desk and said softly into the phone, "Hey."

Alex's light and easy voice stopped as she spoke into the phone. "You had me worried."

Closing his eyes, he reached up and rubbed at his neck. He didn't say anything, not knowing what to say, as he waited to see if she had anything else to say now that she knew he was safe.

"I know about Caleb. Bobby, if you think that I'm going judge you for something that you knew nothing about, you're wrong."

Bobby dropped his hand as he told her, "I don't think that."

"Then why-"

"Alex, go back to your nephew. I'll see you later, alright," he told her before handing the phone back to the nurse before walking out of the building. He could literally hear both women calling him an asshole as the door closed behind him.

He was on his way to his car, and digging out his keys, lost in both anger and thought, when he heard a voice behind him.

"You forgot something in your mother's room, detective."

Bobby was in mid-turn when the voice clicked in his head. The moment his body tensed in anticipation, he felt it in his neck. The pin-prick of a needle and then the weight of his body loosing function. He stumbled into his car, hit the passenger side mirror, and by the time he landed on the ground he had lost consciousness.

The End…until the next story.


End file.
